au revoir...

I’ve never been especially good at saying goodbyes. You would think I’d be better, having been raised an Army brat. I spent most of my childhood being the New Kid in one school or other, and that meant saying goodbye to the kids at the previous school. So you would think that by this stage of my life I’d have it down to a science.

Still, I found myself struggling when it came time to say goodbye to JT. We met about almost a year and a half ago when a friend brought her to my birthday dinner at Chico’s. In her I immediately found a kindred spirit: we laughed at the same jokes, finished our sentences the same way, even sharing certain “beverage preferences.”

When I was hired on the front desk of the hotel where she was front office manager, the bond only grew stronger as we spent most of our time on the clock together. Eventually, a bunch of us started spending our free time together, and our status as mutual besties was sealed.

Recently JT reconnected with someone from her past, and she decided to move to Florida to be with him. As happy as I am for her, I’m going to miss the shit out of her. I know that I’ll get to see her again (I’m planning on flying down in October for her birthday), but it still sucks knowing she’s not on the other side of town. It was a comfort knowing that I could stop by her job and say hey, or we could meet up after work for a Sea Of Sangria at Chico’s.

Since she left Greenville early this morning, she stopped by the hotel last night to say goodbye to me. As I hugged her, I could feel the telltale lump forming in my throat. My eyes started to prickle, and I knew I was seconds away from a good healthy, heart-broken cry. But we’d promised each other “no tears” so I had to man up and dig my nails into the palms of my hands. I was actually doing okay at keeping the tears at bay until we walked away from each other. I made the crucial error of looking back over my shoulder in time to see JT walking out the door. The sight of her red curls bouncing behind her as she walked out was just too much. I choked out something about “needing a minute” to my coworker, and found a quiet corner to cry into.

Eventually I got myself under control, but it all reminded me of when I was a kid moving around all the time. All over again, I felt myself being separated from something familiar and it hurt like hell. There are two comforts that I have that I didn’t when I was a kid. For one thing, we didn’t have Facebook back then. Thanks to the wonders of the interweb, I can keep up with her in a way that I never could with my childhood friends. Second, I’ll be seeing her again in less than two months. I think I can manage without her physical presence for that long. I just don’t want to have to.

An Open Letter to Freshmen: Don't Forget to Live.

Usually when I write a column, I approach it with a mission: to make a point. There’s always one central message to my columns that I want to convey with each word. This message is for the incoming freshman, not to mention a reminder to those returning students at America’s institutions of higher learning. It sounds simple, but don’t forget to live.

While this is an undeniably significant time in your life, don’t let yourself become overwhelmed by the seriousness of it all. Don’t forget to take time to find joy--make the time for joy. Whether it’s intramural athletics, the theater department, or volunteering with kids, find something that makes you happy. One of the worst feelings is to come to the end of an experience only to look back and realize there’s so much more you could have gotten out of it.

Just as important as the activities are the friends you’ll make during this time of your life. Lifelong friends, romantic partners—you never know who will play which role until you take a chance and get to know others. More importantly, you have to give them a chance to get to know you. Share your gifts and your personality because you’ve got a role to play in their lives too.

So go to football games, go to that party next door, ask out the cute redhead in your Econ class that keeps making eyes at you. But whatever you do, don’t forget to live.

Friendship is like herpes...it's forever.

Sometimes I wonder what people think of me. Don’t get me wrong—I long ago stopped giving a damn about people’s opinion, I’m just curious about the impression that I leave with others. I like to imagine myself an outgoing, passionate, funny person, but I know that others might interpret those qualities as being loud, pushy, and obnoxious. My sensitivity may come across as moodiness and my…. oh, let’s just call me a whack-job and be done with it.

But my point is this: no matter what my flaws, I’ve managed to surround myself with a group of friends gracious enough to overlook them. They welcome my contributions and forgive my transgressions. Their only request of me is that I be the best and happiest version of myself possible. And in return, I only have to offer the same consideration. In order to have a friend, I have to be a friend. I have to be just as slow to anger, and just as quick to forgive. Fortunately I’ve had good examples to follow.

There’s my friend, Ashley, who used her connections (not to mention talking a big game about me) to get me a job when things were looking a bit bleak on the employment front. There’s also Lauren, who realized I was having a bad (horrible) night at work and pulled me aside. She made me repeat some nonsense phrase until I started laughing and the proverbial clouds were broken. There are the friends that got me cleaned up and kept me from getting bounced when I threw up in a bar on my birthday. I should especially mention my friend John, who wound up with some of my dinner on his right boot. My bad. There are also the people who’ve gotten out of warm beds to come pick me up after I was “over-served” (yet again, at a bar) while downtown. Speaking of rides, I’ve been picked up from schools, jobs, gyms, detention centers (I’d rather not get into that one), and morning-after walks of shame. And each time, it was made perfectly clear that the friend was offering the service because we were friends, not because anything was expected in return.

The best thing I can do is be that kind of friend to others. I need to be just as generous with my time and talents. I need to be just as open with my own heart as my friends have been with theirs. I’ve been blessed with great friends, and the best way I can repay that is by being a great one myself.

Dammit! I fed the stray...

A while back, I came up with the concept of "feeding the stray." When a stray animal (say a cat) comes around and you feed it once, it's going to keep coming around because it's discovered a source of food. There's a similar pattern among humans. We've all seen it: the shy, awkward outsider just looking for a chance to belong. The misfit in desperate need of a sense of acceptance among his peers. Then one person extends a polite kindness--an invitation to a party, a drink at the bar--and suddenly the misfit feels like a friend. And just like that, you've fed the stray. You will not shake this loser with anything short of a restraining order--and even those aren't guarantees. If you run into each other in social settings, he'll follow you around like a bad fart. If you give him your number, he'll call you endlessly. The only thing that can end the cycle is when the "stray" finds another source of "food." So you introduce him to your friends (not the good friends, the ones you rarely speak to) praying he'll latch onto one of them. You try desperately to shake this kid like a booger stuck to your finger. There's no moral to this story, just wanted to explain what I mean when I say, "Dammit! I fed the stray..." Some of you know who I'm talking about, but I don't think I'll ever really be rid of the motherfucker. At this point, I've accepted it, even embraced. Hell, maybe I was the stray that he fed. Who knows at this point.