Well, what did she do with it? I don't know, fucking ate it?!
When I drive home from work and it's sunny I stick my left arm out the window on the highway and feel the breeze. It's become a little ritual to switch my class ring over to my right hand first though to get rid of the paranoia of it flying off into the wind. My shiny new class ring.
My shiny Alumni ring.
There's a possibility I will be the only one of the bubble not returning to Bona-land in August. Most of the favorites were younger or are locals or are doing post-grad work or simply are headin' on back. I probably will not be doing that. I want to, badly, desperately. I know I can't though.
TMI: The first thing that came to mind, metaphorically, was getting your eyebrows waxed. I do it because it's necessary. God granted me Italian genes. But I can't tweeze them- the pain is intolerable to me. Ladies, you know. But it's like Bonas. Work with me: I had to get "waxed" from Bonas, rip it all out at once. If I didn't, I'd torture myself with the endless plucking. It'd never look exactly right and the slow prospect of the end result would just be useless and leave me red and teary-eyed.
The incentive to return to work for a bit or to take classes or yadda yadda is huge. I could re-live some of the best moments of my life. Having Maria and Liz come here from Bonas to visit was fuuuuuuun and heartbreaking at the same time. I wanted to drive back, care-free, with them and do whatever was necessary to stay.
But I can't. I just can't. I can't lean on my comfy little community out there anymore.
The two months flew since the end of my New York residence. Every time the highway looms ahead on my commute home (wherever home might be for that day, by the by) it's like a movie reel; another day gone, another looms ahead. I can't ever feel anxious while I drive...
I take that back. Now I own a shiny car too- a fun black Honda civic. Catch is...stick shift, baby. That's been an adjustment because driving used to be my saving, calming grace. Now I cringe when I grind the gears or stall out while turning onto a major road. Yeah, it still happens. I suck, a lot.
Digression: I went to Las Vegas. Cheers to Vegas. I reunioned (yeah, I made it a verb. I can do that with a degree) with my friends from Sevilla. If I told you what happened there, you’d never believe me. I won’t bother. But I would like to say: to Andrew, to Sara, to Erin, Candice and Esmelda. To Lauren, Britney, Danielle and Rachel. To Lu, Elena and those crazy motherfuckers, Matt and Brian. You’re all worth mentioning. You all make my life insane and beyond anything I could imagine. I had more fun in Vegas than should be legal. Every time two or more of us get together there’s truly magic and I’m so lucky to be a part of it. We have something that comes along almost never. It’s so rare. I write to live and you guys and what we do together leave me without words. But you know. I know. Bacon.
To all the Sevillanos who couldn’t make it either- we conquer viva la Mexico next. It wasn’t the same without you (yeah, you, guapo) so mark your calendars for 2-0-1-0!
Anyways.
I carry Bona paraphernalia with me everywhere. The alumni sticker on the back of my car (it needs a name, PS. It's a boy, possibly gay, and small and adorable), the beautiful ring, etc. I wear my Buzz Radio t-shirt. I rock that threadbare t-shirt. I cry, always, when the alma mater song turns up on the shuffle on my iPod.
But these things fit nicely next to my new things that define me too. I have sand back between my toes- God I missed that. It's all in the car too already. My T (subway) pass and Stop n' Shop grocery card replace the top slots in my wallet where the Tops card and student ID used to be. I wear this tacky and touristy rope bracelet my boyfriend threw at me one day. I was fully against it for a few days, thinking it was no big deal until he brought up that I never wore it. I haven't taken it off since and (read: vomit alert) he has a matching one. That's almost on par with an official Facebook relationship. PS- he’s fantastic. My keys have a gender-symboled keychain that’s red and shiny and super from Vegas and from the best vacation of my life with the best people of my life.
I fidget at work with my ring, looping it in and out of the bracelet that has tiny grains of sand stuck in the strings. It all fits, and I'll be fine. We'll all be fine.
Once I thought that life really jipped us with the 'you only get one shot at this'. But I see that that isn't true. I haven't converted, but I see we live in an age where we are blessed to live as many lives as we want. I've lived a million times over with a million different people in a million different places. I always say my heart is in so many places- we have a luxury now to do such things. We can travel and connect more than ever. Bonas was my present for four years and now it's my past. Slowly I become OK with that. I know it won't disappear entirely- just because it's my past doesn't mean it's dead. It means it's now immortal, forever, in me- I've experienced it and will never forget.
I don't know where I'll be in a year, in two years or tomorrow. I can't predict that- I don't even know what I want for sure to happen. But I'm happy and healthy and blessed right. Now.
Right now it’s good. It’ll never be perfect but I sit here happy, truly. It’s all I could ever want.
Maybe I’ll do play-by-plays next. This was the contemplative rant. Next time hopefully coherency will reign. I miss this old thing. Kay, bye.
My shiny Alumni ring.
There's a possibility I will be the only one of the bubble not returning to Bona-land in August. Most of the favorites were younger or are locals or are doing post-grad work or simply are headin' on back. I probably will not be doing that. I want to, badly, desperately. I know I can't though.
TMI: The first thing that came to mind, metaphorically, was getting your eyebrows waxed. I do it because it's necessary. God granted me Italian genes. But I can't tweeze them- the pain is intolerable to me. Ladies, you know. But it's like Bonas. Work with me: I had to get "waxed" from Bonas, rip it all out at once. If I didn't, I'd torture myself with the endless plucking. It'd never look exactly right and the slow prospect of the end result would just be useless and leave me red and teary-eyed.
The incentive to return to work for a bit or to take classes or yadda yadda is huge. I could re-live some of the best moments of my life. Having Maria and Liz come here from Bonas to visit was fuuuuuuun and heartbreaking at the same time. I wanted to drive back, care-free, with them and do whatever was necessary to stay.
But I can't. I just can't. I can't lean on my comfy little community out there anymore.
The two months flew since the end of my New York residence. Every time the highway looms ahead on my commute home (wherever home might be for that day, by the by) it's like a movie reel; another day gone, another looms ahead. I can't ever feel anxious while I drive...
I take that back. Now I own a shiny car too- a fun black Honda civic. Catch is...stick shift, baby. That's been an adjustment because driving used to be my saving, calming grace. Now I cringe when I grind the gears or stall out while turning onto a major road. Yeah, it still happens. I suck, a lot.
Digression: I went to Las Vegas. Cheers to Vegas. I reunioned (yeah, I made it a verb. I can do that with a degree) with my friends from Sevilla. If I told you what happened there, you’d never believe me. I won’t bother. But I would like to say: to Andrew, to Sara, to Erin, Candice and Esmelda. To Lauren, Britney, Danielle and Rachel. To Lu, Elena and those crazy motherfuckers, Matt and Brian. You’re all worth mentioning. You all make my life insane and beyond anything I could imagine. I had more fun in Vegas than should be legal. Every time two or more of us get together there’s truly magic and I’m so lucky to be a part of it. We have something that comes along almost never. It’s so rare. I write to live and you guys and what we do together leave me without words. But you know. I know. Bacon.
To all the Sevillanos who couldn’t make it either- we conquer viva la Mexico next. It wasn’t the same without you (yeah, you, guapo) so mark your calendars for 2-0-1-0!
Anyways.
I carry Bona paraphernalia with me everywhere. The alumni sticker on the back of my car (it needs a name, PS. It's a boy, possibly gay, and small and adorable), the beautiful ring, etc. I wear my Buzz Radio t-shirt. I rock that threadbare t-shirt. I cry, always, when the alma mater song turns up on the shuffle on my iPod.
But these things fit nicely next to my new things that define me too. I have sand back between my toes- God I missed that. It's all in the car too already. My T (subway) pass and Stop n' Shop grocery card replace the top slots in my wallet where the Tops card and student ID used to be. I wear this tacky and touristy rope bracelet my boyfriend threw at me one day. I was fully against it for a few days, thinking it was no big deal until he brought up that I never wore it. I haven't taken it off since and (read: vomit alert) he has a matching one. That's almost on par with an official Facebook relationship. PS- he’s fantastic. My keys have a gender-symboled keychain that’s red and shiny and super from Vegas and from the best vacation of my life with the best people of my life.
I fidget at work with my ring, looping it in and out of the bracelet that has tiny grains of sand stuck in the strings. It all fits, and I'll be fine. We'll all be fine.
Once I thought that life really jipped us with the 'you only get one shot at this'. But I see that that isn't true. I haven't converted, but I see we live in an age where we are blessed to live as many lives as we want. I've lived a million times over with a million different people in a million different places. I always say my heart is in so many places- we have a luxury now to do such things. We can travel and connect more than ever. Bonas was my present for four years and now it's my past. Slowly I become OK with that. I know it won't disappear entirely- just because it's my past doesn't mean it's dead. It means it's now immortal, forever, in me- I've experienced it and will never forget.
I don't know where I'll be in a year, in two years or tomorrow. I can't predict that- I don't even know what I want for sure to happen. But I'm happy and healthy and blessed right. Now.
Right now it’s good. It’ll never be perfect but I sit here happy, truly. It’s all I could ever want.
Maybe I’ll do play-by-plays next. This was the contemplative rant. Next time hopefully coherency will reign. I miss this old thing. Kay, bye.