Day 63 - Ryan? or Sean?

Ryan and Sean were twins in band. Enough girls in band thought they were cute that the twins began to act like they were the hottest guys around. They had cute qualties, but their attitudes turned their blue eyes into slits and their winning smiles into smirks.

Tram and I had birthdays within a few weeks of each other, so my parents would let us throw joint birthday parties at my house. On our sixteenth birthday, Linda, who shared my birthday, joined up with us and the three of us made shirts for the occassion. The day of the party we wore our shirts to school. Mine was a black/white/gray camo shirt with pink and purple puff paint on it that said such things as, "Princess Andrea" and "Sweet Sixteen." I was fashionable.

As I passed one of the twins, he snidely asked who made me a princess. I have never been good with comebacks, but I am quick to anger. At the time I knew which twin said it, and I hated him. There have been a lot of moments that contributed to my prejudice against cocky, attractive guys, but this was probably the last straw.

Day 62 - Erich

Erich was my band buddy my sophomore year, because Tram had a crush on him. I guess it made more sense for me to be his band buddy because ... the three of us could hang out without the whole 'awkward' band buddy on band buddy crush? or maybe it was less obvious this way? I never really understood, but Erich was a cool band buddy to have. He was a charming junior trumpet player. I don't think we would have been friends at all if he hadn't been my buddy. (In case you're completely lost, upper classmen "adopted" under classmen as "buddies" to guide them through the band experience. Also, for all you non-bandies, trumpet players are usually the most confident (i.e. cocky) and popular band members)

Erich used to ask me a lot of questions I had never heard before and give my beauty advice.

Andrea, why do you always wear your hair up? It would look good down, maybe you should try styling it. It wouldn't take that much time. Andrea, do you wear make-up?You could be really pretty. Andrea, do own any skirts? You only ever wear jeans.

He would say all these things with the sweetest smile. Everyone worries about what other people think of them. With Erich, you didn't have to worry; you knew what he thought.

Day 61 - Doc Marshall

Doc was beyond cool. I worked for her at her Vet Clinic for almost two years. She was a relaxed, strong, confident woman who you didn't question or want to disappoint. She was also a lot of fun. Doc could be so funny and she had the greatest smile. She comforted people with ease when necessary, but lectured pet owners on bad behavior in a way that they usually listened. Doc made a difference.

She taught me so much. Everyday I worked for her, I learned more than I thought I could take in after already sitting in classes all day. She trusted me with a lot. I loved the responsibility. It made me feel special and worthy. There were times when I was frustrated when that trust translated into me waking up almost three hours early to go work for an hour before school, or coming in alone twice a day on Sundays and holidays to walk, feed, medicate and clean up after 30 plus dogs.

In the end, I loved it. It was a huge challenge and I was proud to take it on. Doc was a fantastic role model, a great teacher, and a wonderful boss.

Day 60 - Lisa

Lisa was my babysitter when I was around four when we lived in New Mexico. She was the daughter of close friend and colleague of my Dad. When our parents got together, she would set me up with 'Look Who's Talking' in her room. I thought that was the coolest thing. I got to lay on her bed, in her room, with the door shut and watch my favorite movie.

When we moved to Colorado, she would send me notes and birthday cards and stickers. She was the greatest. One time, she came through town with one of her friends around Easter and gave me this huge stuffed bunny rabbit. I named him Bun Bun, as I named all my rabbits.

When I was in high school, she got married. It was the most exciting wedding I have ever been to. I don't remember how old I was, but I'm pretty sure I shouldn't have been doing jell-o shots. Lisa looked really happy and now she has kids of her own. I have no doubt their mom is amazing.

Lisa is one of those people who genuinely loves kids. She goes out of her way for kids. I was lucky enough to be one of the kids she loved.

Day 59 - Lindsey

Lindsey was Keith's younger sister. I don't have a sister and I don't have any younger siblings. In fact, if I was around younger kids, it was probably because I was babysitting them. So, having a younger sister around was very new. Plus, she never bothered me as much as she bothered Keith.

I remember my oldest brother's first girlfriend as the coolest girl on earth. She taught me how to put my hair in a high side pony tail and was nice to me. She would tease my brother in front of me in a way that both he and I enjoyed it. She also gave me this little stuffed raccoon when we moved away with a note about how she would miss me.

I'm pretty sure I didn't have the same effect on Lindsey, but I always wanted to. I'd go into her room and talk ith her when Keith was finishing something up or busy with his parents. I tried to stick up for her when they were fighting and occasionally tease Keith like that girl used to tease my brother. She wasn't young enough to think the world of me, but Keith said she liked me.

Lindsey was a pretty cool little sister to have around for a couple years.

Day 58 - William

William was Keith's best friend. I don't think he liked me. He was always silent when I was around and he didn't seem like a quite guy in general. In any movie or tv show he and Keith made, he was just as loud and obnoxious as Keith could be.

It bothered me that I couldn't be friends with Keith's friends, because he so easily fit in with all of my friends. I had a lot of theories on why William wouldn't like me. The strongest candidate was something that happened before Keith and I were together.

I think it was the end of our sophomore year and a group of us were sitting around Mr. Smith's classroom talking about what classes we were taking next year. At our high school there were levels of classes, which were (essentially): basic, advanced and for college credit; they were called 'L', 'K', and 'AP' because school administrators think it makes kids less aware of the levels. I don't remember the conversation exactly, but I know what I said. The 'L' classes I had been in were boring and I was always explaining what was going on to my peers. While talking about this I specifically remember saying the phrase, "L kids". It sounds awful, like I meant they were stupid and so beneath me. That's how William took it. He didn't shout at me, but he raised his voice and put me down for it. I felt horrible and tried to apologize and eat up my words. But you can't take back what's already out there.

It's possibly William just wasn't comfortable around me, or was a quiet guy unless the camera was on, but I'll always blame my stupid mouth.

Day 57 - Keith

I've been putting off writing about Keith. I feel like there is too much to say, enough memories to keep me typing for days. Nothing will do justice to his impact on my life. As I begin to shape a blog about him in my head, nothing seems to fully express what went on. The words I want to use seem melodramatic and anti-climatic all at once. I'm sometimes afraid that what I had with Keith is too strong a litmus test for any relationship that follows; that this standard will be, in some ways, too hard to re-create. I want to make it clear that I'm not pinning for Keith. I am still a little in awe of what we shared.

There were times when I felt like Keith and I defined "couple". We spent an insane amount of time together. When we weren't together, we were writing notes, drawing pictures for each other, or talking on the phone. When that wasn't happening I was thinking about him and he claimed he did the same. Together, we became ultimately comfortable. We could do anything and be happy just being together. When we had classes together, we only rarely became 'that annoying couple'; but once in the halls, our fingers automatically intertwined and our feet fell into an easy pace.

It sounds obsessive, I know that. There were times when I thought he was too nice to me, too devoted. I was afraid of the strength of our love; however, I never felt smothered and rarely overwhelmed. We didn't rush into this state of bliss and it wasn't quick or easy escaping from it either. Near the end of high school, I could see the infinite possibilities of my future. I suddenly felt like every moment for the rest of my life was somehow already planned out and I was trapped. I thought Keith was the main thing that could actually dictate my future in a way that I couldn't control, and I freaked out.

I broke up with Keith before school ended; before prom and our senior trip, before all the moments we were supposed to joyously celebrate together. It was awful, but there was this strong feeling deep inside me that wouldn't relent. It was saying that breaking up was the right thing to do. I'm not positive it was the only way to move on with my life. I had this idea that transformations had to be complete, like butterflies from cocoons.


We don't really talk anymore. After we broke up, moved apart for college and began to heal, we just stopped communicating. I mean, I know where he is and vaguely what he is doing the way I know those vital stats about most of my friends who, frankly, meant less to me. Years ago I thought we stopped talking because we weren't meant to be or because our commonalities left with our relationship, but I'm not so sure anymore. I think really talking to Keith would still hurt in a way.

Day 56 - Ms. Woolley

Ms. Woolley reignited my love of books. (An evil woman my freshman year squeezed it out of me.) She was my American Lit teacher my junior year. The class went along with Mr. V's American History as a super-challenging, amazingly interesting class called: American Studies.

Ms. Woolley made me appreciate and attempt to compare more books than I ever thought it possible to read in one year. She also taught me how to look for more authors based on books I already like. She described literature in an interesting, progressive way and let us choose practically any novel for our research papers. Like Mr. V, she did not put up with laziness. It was a good year for me. That year I worked harder and achieved more than I ever did before.

Day 55 - Mr. Villamagna

Mr. V is the most passionate teacher I have yet to encounter. I took his American History I and II for college credit my junior year in high school, but he expected more than many college professors I came to know. He was medium height and build, had dark hair, glasses and a New York accent. He would scream, jump up and down, and bang chalk boards and desks with yard sticks to emphasize points.

This was the first class during which I actually read and mostly remembered both assigned texts. I read, took notes on, studied, and was quizzed on 26 chapters of the textbook, not to mention the second book Mr. V picked: Howard Zinn's A People's History of the United States. For a slacker student like me, who usually lucked-out in receiving mostly A's, it was surprising to need to actually work.

Mr. V demanded you stick to the reading schedule, answer insanely detailed questions from your notes and participate in lectures. He also had really clever writing assignments. I wrote my first (and only) bad history book review after half-reading three different books on the Kennedy's and I interviewed two different people to find their historic viewpoint and analyze it (which I still think is cool).

Mr. V made me work my ass off to get decent grades, and took the time to get to know me. We weren't best friends, but he knew what I was involved in, who I was dating and my general taste in music and movies. He was a blast. But none of that was factored into my grades, I had to work.

Mr. V is the reason most of college felt like a breeze. His was still one of the hardest classes I ever took.

Day 54 - Geoff

Geoff gave me my first and only bible. That is the biggest impact he had on my life. He took me to teen bible studies, gave me Five Iron Frenzy and other Christian teen music, but most importantly was that bible.

Geoff and I were in band together, but we really became close while we were in France. The very first day, our group toured the Eiffel tower. He and another girl and I were sitting in the gravel under the tower staring up in amazement while our group moved on. When we realized it, I was annoyed that a) we only spent 30 minutes at the Eiffel tower and b) the teachers couldn't count to 20 on the first day. We caught up to the group only five minutes later about 100 feet away and teacher looked surprised, then reprimanded us for lagging. She was so clueless.

Back to the point: Geoff and I spent a lot of time talking on that trip. There were hours and hours to pass sitting in a bus or walking through castles. Geoff could make me laugh, appreciated my jokes and we found a lot of similarities in our childhoods to talk about. We also talked about religion which I don't discuss with a lot of people. I told him in general, I wasn't interested in religion because of it's negative aspects, including the way the majority of my Christian peers behaved. He argued that religion is about a personal connection with God and I admitted I had never read the bible, but had always been curious.

One day that same summer after France, Christie was visiting and we were washing my car (still a new and fun activity) when Geoff called and asked if he could come over. He gave me an "Extreme Teen" bible and we chatted for a little while, then he left. I was a little weirded out, but Geoff never said I was wrong and he was right, or that finding God is the only search worth pursuing, or any other such narrow-minded comments that I usually found off-putting. He simply said I might want to read it.

I made a decision to read the entire bible that year.

I got half way through Genesis and quit.

Even though I have yet to read the entire bible, I still thumb through it from time to time and read the explanations and comments that accompany this version. I can't fully commit, but I find it sometimes interesting, sometimes provoking and sometimes calming. I still truly respect Geoff; I know he will do wonderful things in this world and be faithful to God throughout.

Day 53 - Andrea J

I met Andrea in French Class. We worked on a group project once and she basically had to write out my entire section phonetically. When we went to France, she, Michelle and I shared an hotel room together in Paris. The first thing we did was walk 15 blocks away to a liquor store and buy a bottle of something. Then, we proceeded to sneak it into our room and drink it, but then we were stuck with the bottle as evidence. We ended up putting it inside several bags and throwing it out a window into the alley. Kind of pathetic, really.

Another night, we decided we had to go out and party because we were 16 and that was the legal drinking age. We asked the cute French boy at the hotel desk what bar to go to, got on the subway, walked several blocks and entered some bar named after a Mustang. In some mangled French, we ordered beers. As I'm putting the bottle to my lips, the bartender asks how old we are. I tell him I'm soixante. After a few minutes of arguing about it, he took our beers away. Once we were outside Andrea says, "16 is seize; soixante is 60." O, well, I guess once we had been kicked out was the time to tell me that.

We tried to go clubbing twice. One night, we had to pick up old 'Roxbury' guys outside the club in order to get in because there were no "bands" allowed. We were turned away because our dress was too "sporty." On the way home on the bus we spoke to a guy who hated Americans because we are spoiled and ignorant. The next night, we dressed in the sluttiest clothes we had brought and the club was closed because it was some Catholic holiday. By the time we headed home, the buses had stopped running, and we had to take a ride with an unbelievably creepy taxi driver.

We continued to sneak out of most every hotel room we shared during our two weeks in France. If Andrea hadn't been there, I would have slept a full nine hours every night and have no stories to tell. Quelle tragédie!

Day 52 - Lucas

I went to high school with Lucas. He was a year older than me, played tuba and was gay. I'm pretty sure he was the only person near my age who I knew was gay. Of course, at the time, the only other person who I personally knew and knew was definitely gay, was my uncle. Knowing my uncle is gay was never a big deal for me. There was no real discussion about it; he loved a man, not a woman, what's the big deal? I feel like I always knew. (In fact, I grew up not really understanding the "are they - aren't they" question. You loved who you loved, who cared?) So, the mere fact that Lucas was gay, was not, to me, a big deal; however, I did go to a school in white suburban Texas and the majority of my peers were born into a fairly strict Baptist environment. I don't think they shared my exact belief. I'm not sure how "out" Lucas was, mostly because I never asked. Teenagers talk, non-stop, and I had a vague understanding.

The summer after my sophomore year, I went to France with some of the members of my school's French Club. Lucas was one of about twenty of us. We flew to Paris and met up with two other school groups, both from the mid-west. Their Minnesota accents amused us and those of us who had Texas accents amused them, so the pronunciation of English words was brought up quite frequently. One night, we were walking down a street and we were again comparing words, in particular those that had a long 'A': 'tag', 'wag', 'bag', etc.

Maybe you can see where this is going?

I brought up the word 'fag'. I didn't do it to be malicious, but that is never the point. The point is I initiated a moment where 5 of more kids were walking down the street, taking turns saying, "fag" and giggling. I would liked to have erased the last five minutes, crawled into a hole and hidden out for weeks once I realized Lucas was yelling from behind me to stop. I tried, lamely, to explain that I did not necessarily mean the word when it refers to gays. I'm pretty sure I even brought up the fact that I could have meant a cigarette just like the one he was smoking. Again, that wasn't the point.

This is one instance when I used language I knew was not considerate, but only began to regret it once a friend called me out on it. I think most of us try not to, but tend to speak without completely considering our words. I know I still do. Someone who will confront you and ask if you were really thinking about what you said: those are the best people to surround yourself with.

Day 51 - Jon

A few things I knew about Jon: he played trombone, his little sister was a hoot, he liked 311, The Beastie Boys and Blink 182, he had long fingers, his dirty blond hair was adorably curly and his family was of the Aggie persuasion. I liked Jon, I liked flirting with him. For me, he was just too cute to believe. I thought he would be a fun guy to date the summer after sophomore year.

I assumed it would start if we went to see X-men like we had vaguely talked about. My friend Christie was in town and we met Jon and Vince at Tinseltown to see the movie. It became clear through the experience that it wasn't going to happen. What a bummer.

It's funny, but the nonchalant way I refer to the idea of dating Jon was really how I felt about it. If he had actually asked me out, I would have responded, "cool." It was a sign I didn't yet know to look for.

It's going to sound conceited, but at least it'll be honest: Jon taught me that I wasn't going to get to date every guy I liked. That's not exactly what I mean. I never thought I could date anyone I pleased. I don't over estimate myself. There were unattainable crushes, but then there were boys you had a chance with.

So far in high school, if I liked a guy I had a chance with, I got a date out of it. It was like magic. But now, a chance did not guarantee anything. Yes, we could flirt and hint at something, but it might not work. Things had happened far too easily with David, I just assumed relationships appeared out of nowhere as soon as two people liked each other. O, silly, naive Andrea, that's just not the case. Stars have to align, planets need to shift, cupid must aim well. (Or something less romantic, but still dramatic.)

Day 50 - John

John was sweet; goofy, but sweet. After Dave broke up with me, I was facing Band Banquet with no date. It wasn't a travesty; in fact, Laura and I had decided it would be good for me. John sat with Laura and I at lunch that year. He didn't have a date either, so we decided to go as friends. It was a nice, big group event. My friends and their dates all met at my house and then at the actual dance, you sit in a group of ten for dinner. John was sweet, so I had a good time.

A few weeks later, he told me he had such a good time with me. "Would you consider going to Prom with me?" Well, it seemed harmless, and fun. I don't remember much about pictures, dinner or the dance. The lock-in after prom party at the arcade, I do remember. I didn't spend a huge portion of it with John, because I knew a lot of other people there and he seemed fine hanging with his friends. I was Jon's and Vince's lucky charm at the poker tables, then we bowled a few rounds of speed bowling and rounded it all off with some arcade games. It was a blast!

After the after party, Megan, Bobby and all of them were going to Justin's parents' lake house to party through the weekend. Somehow, I convinced my parents I could go (I think Megan helped convince them, actually). Honestly, it was so much to take in. I was half-trying not to get caught alone with John, just in case, so I was meandering through and around a lake house alone. Wandering past scenes I had only seen in movies and sipping on rum and milk. The whole experience was very surreal. At one point there was a half-naked gorgegous man named Tyger dancing around the living room. I think I tried to teach him some dance move to the song that was on. Oh, Tyger.

Without John, I may have remained innocent to all sorts of party-related debauchery and drama all through high school.

Day 49 - Laura

I have this bad habit of comparing new people I meet with people I already know. In Laura's case, when I met her, I thought, "She's a lot like my friend, Erin." She was sweet, funny, friendly and religious. Of course, once I get to know the new people better I realize their differences, but essentially, something about them remains... well, in this case "Erin-ish". I find it endless interesting.

Laura was a great friend. We ate lunch together and took water breaks together during band. She had a birthday party with a Mary Kay demo once. It was so fun! She was much girlie and proper than me and I'd like to think some of it rubbed off on me. Laura was really the first girl with whom I had "girl-talks". She would fill me in on her boyfriend, and I'd reciprocate. We'd brainstorm reasons for their behavior or how we should proceed or why we would ever like the people we liked. I was there for her during the rough times and she offered help when I needed it. I also swore less when I was around Laura, which is always good.

All-in-all, Laura was a nice, steady, positive influence on me during a time when I was highly susceptible to influences of all kinds.

Day 48 - Ms. Durham

Ms. Durham was my biology teacher Sophomore year. She was fantastic! It's funny to place her right after Mr. Smith, because she was another non-traditional teacher. She would bring up inappropriate subject matter to explain biology. She never weirded me out, maybe it was because she was a woman.

I learned about how to soothe a sting from a jellyfish by peeing on it and how to remember the organization of living things: Kinky Perverts Come Over For Group Sex (Kingdom, Phylum, Class, Order, Family, Group, Sex). She also showed us videos with drunk animals, hermaphrodites, and other exciting phenomenon. Biology is the one science in High School I really remember and it's all because of Ms. Durham.

Day 47 - Mr. Smith

Mr. Smith was fairly short, stout, wore round wire-framed glasses, had bright red, curly hair which was balding on top and tied back in a longish ponytail in the back. He was a pale Irishman who blushed easily and told inappropriate jokes while teaching history. A lot of my peers loved Mr. Smith because he wasn't a traditional teacher. He would begin a debate on censorship by complaining about Wal-mart bleeping out his Snoop Dogg CD. He listened to Snoop Dogg for the profanity, didn't everyone?

The off-putting thing about Mr. Smith for me was his sexism. He made awful, sexist jokes, specifically about one of our assistant principals. She was a tall, fairly attractive blond and when she would come into the room he'd make a joke and then go over and talk to her. Once she left he'd tell us something like, "She just promised to come over later tonight; I have some curtains I need hung." And laughter would rise up around me. Ugh.

He also had this bizarre touchy relationship with girls. Personally, he used to crack my knuckles. I never wanted to crack my knuckles or have him do it. He'd grab my hands and squeeze my fits until they popped. It was strange. Usually I would only talk to him outside of class when Keith wanted to talk to him.

I don't know if Mr. Smith crossed the line with anyone else. I'm not sure I would necessarily say he was sexually harassing me, but he was a dirty-minded fellow. He was the first dirty man I had to deal with. There have been countless more since him, but I learned the beginnings of how to silence them with a glare, weasel out of encounters without insulting them, and how to avoid them.

Day 46 - Jeff

Jeff was David's best friend. They had made a bet on the bus in NYC over me. I didn't find this out until I was really emotionally invested in Dave. Since I loved David and while he thought it was the best bet he'd ever won, was sorry, and Jeff laughed about it, I hated Jeff. I thought he was heartless and conniving.

Jeff is technically the reason David and I were ever together. In the end, I can't be too mad at Jeff. In fact, thanks Jeff.

Day 45 -David F

David was my first love. It's hard for me to rationalize my feelings for him. When I list attributes I liked about him, a large majority of guys could easily take his place. He was sweet, cute, funny, and respectful, but he was irreplaceable too.

I loved David, because when he looked in my eyes, I felt like we were looking directly into each other's hearts and it became difficult to breathe. I loved David because every time he held my hand, it tingled up my arm, down my spine and settled in the pit of my stomach. I loved David because anytime we kissed, the world melted away and time stood still. I know it sounds like a cliche movie, and my only defense is that movies are written that way for a reason.

I didn't know David until we were sitting across from each other on the band's tour bus in New York City. I feel like from the very moment we shared hello's we were inseparable. We walked through the Met together, he first held my hand while we were standing around Strawberry Fields in Central Park, he first kissed me on the ferry ride to Liberty Island, he first fed me in China Town, we sat next to each other at Les Miserables and on the flight home. It's a wonderful list for a movie montage.

He broke up with me a week after we got back to Houston, because he thought we were moving too fast. The next day, he called me to say he changed his mind. Not long after, he graduated and I went to all the graduation parties with him. We celebrated July Fourth early with a picnic, fireworks, a blanket and the stars in the park. (The mosquitoes were swarming too, inflicting bites which would become a long-running inside joke). The next day David flew to Ireland for nearly two months. It was dreadful, but we wrote to each other most everyday. We even kept odd hours to be able to IM. Sometime in late July, he IMed me to make sure I was by my phone. I answered before the first ring could sound. He only had a minute, but he couldn't wait to tell me anymore: He loved me! I couldn't believe it. I was giddy with joy and overflowing with excitement to return the sentiment.

By August, when I went to the airport with his family to pick him up, I was full thoughts and love for David. He was only home one week before he went to college in a town eight hours away, but we were committed to each other. He didn't come home often, so when he did it was amazing. The day after I turned 16 that December, I got a job where he worked so that we could spend the upcoming summer together. A couple weeks later, he sent me a note: "It's too hard" it began.

He broke up with me in the mail. I was devastated. I was distraught. I was destroyed.

I heard he had started dating someone in college and the timeline was a little hazy as far as any overlapping was concerned. My spring semester passed with depression, anger, bitterness and trying to get over him by dating someone else. That summer, I got my original wish: we were working together. I tricked myself into believing I could be his friend, but a part of me was still too in love. We flirted enough that our coworkers asked me if we were dating. I'd explained our history and they convinced me that he wanted me back. That final glimmer of hope fizzled out after several different near misses. The last nail in the coffin was driven in by a good date with a new guy with the beginnings of all the tingles and moments of suspended time.

David taught me nearly the entire spectrum of love. I'll never forget him.

Day 44 - Katherine

Katherine and I were usually bus buddies on game days. Katherine was quiet, but fun. I identified with that. With Katherine I could be just myself; I didn't have to try to impress her. She would say the most outrageous things to me and I'd be shocked into laughter. We shared a hotel room with Megan and Raeann when we were in New York for the band trip. We didn't sleep a lot that weekend. I think the curfew was 11 or 12, but we'd stay up hours later giggling and having Megan and Raeann hiss at us to go to sleep.

It's funny as I write about these people I got to know Freshmen year, but didn't really stay friends with. Mostly, I can't remember specific events that made us fall apart. It's not as if we walked passed each other in the halls without a smile, nod or hello. It's not as if we talked bad about each other. We just stopped making plans or calling each other, or confiding, giggling and venting together. I'm not sure what that's about. I'm finally beginning to understand that friendships are fragile relationships. Honestly, there is never any concrete thing keeping you tied into the contract. You have to work at it, continuously re-commit yourself to the friendship. Right?