triumphant return from the dredges of stress. thanks, part 5.

So, it's Wednesday. Which is Thank You day, but I've taken two weeks off at this point. I'm thinking it's kind of a 'Do it or desert it' kind of thing, so I'm going to do itttt.

Plus I've been kind of sad-sacky lately, aka convincing myself I'm more stressed out than I am and making things waaaaaaaay more complicated than they have to be. So, maybe gratitude and cheerful reflection are necessary elements at this point.

Ta da!:

Colly,

You are my sister. I know, I know, we both already have sisters. And our sisters are wonderful and I love all of them, yours and mine. But, saying you are my friend doesn't quite do it justice for me, so you are my sister, the sister that I was fortunate enough to find and lucky enough to hold onto even though life likes to keep us apart for seemingly endless spans of time. Thanks for holding onto your end of the string, always. I've got a firm grasp on my end.

The thing that's interesting to me is that we haven't killed each other yet. Two summers on Drama Island can burn to a crisp even the most regaled friendships, but somehow, some way, we've managed to forge something stronger, never even knowing each other prior to that first ferry ride. It's amazing to think back to the first moments and days of our friendship, because at this point I honestly don't even associate it with the Island anymore. But we did meet there, in a sun (and booze) drenched haze- and per usual, we're always the last two standing.

It was drunk love at first night. We both have the tendency to get a little carried away, take it just a touch further than it needs to go. Or miles further than it should go. We always look out for each other, though, so it works out. But really, we've probably legitimately saved each others' lives. Yeahhhhhh, obligatory mention of my twenty-first birthday. We'd known each other what, a month? Two? You got me in that pizza delivery cart and made that dude haul my ass back home and gave a little "You're on my shit list and you're THE ONLY ONE ON IT" speech to that creepy kid that bought me all those shots when you walked away to grab me some pizza and tried to take me home. True friend. Thanks for that, God knows someone had to help me. We'll leave it at that.

We've got so many good times,  and they warm me in my coldest moments. I can conjure in an instant memories of morning horoscopes with Ms. Bigar,  Oberons outdoors, a bicycle built for two, traipsing around Chicago with Mere that sunny summer weekend, and making every cab ride THE MOST FUN cab ride ever. We've stayed (and not stayed) in swanky hotels, cried in movie theaters, celebrated many a Halloween together, and recovered from hangovers while lounging with books, looking out at lakes and pools.

You're funny. SO funny. Effortlessly, not in a way that requires putting on an act or slapstick shticks. Just offhand sarcastic comments that get me and little things like slapping hand sanitizer into your hair when waking up five minutes before a shift starts. How did we ever survive rushing around and running out the door in our dirty uniforms after falling into bed at dawn almost every morning for two summers? God, it was fun. Thanks for always making me laugh, and for always having a retort to drunk assholes.

I never really understood why people would always come up to us and ask if we were sisters, but it's probably our mannerisms more than our looks. We've both got attitude, an easygoing looks. I've always been jealous though,  you've got such great features. Irish-white perfect skin and naturally dark hair. Lucky biotch. The awkward "Nope, not sisters, HALF BIRTHDAY TWINS!" always come next. All part of our appeal.

We're the best. 

We've had strained moments, too, which I look at as the tests life throws out to see how strong things really are. I still remember how fucking PISSED you were at me that time when your parents were visiting and you were showing them our apartment and you opened the door to show them our tiny little box of a bedroom with two twin beds, all the furniture touching and barely enough closet space to hang a quarter of our clothes up- and there I was with my total deadbeat of a boyfriend, fresh out of the shower and just lying around naked...on top of each other. I'm chuckling right now, thinking of the look on your face. Have I mentioned how sorry I am for that lately? Thank G your parents were still at the bottom of the stairs. I can also recall a certain time that you showed up to your server shift to relieve me after *ahem* spending the afternoon at the winery. That was tense, but how could I really be mad? I was more jealous than anything. Thanks for quickly getting over the time I yelled at you in the kitchen. Yeah, I know you remember the one. Intense. The bossman finally showed up and we were fine again, but both crying on the porch steps out back.  I probably could have done without raising my voice, sorry about that... but seriously, bus your shit. It's all funny to me now, and fun-even the conflicts.

I'm so proud of you for making Chicago work. I wish with ever fiber of my body that I could have.  And for chugging through a shitty hand of health cards like a champ- I know that wreck havoc on your spirit. And for being discerning with gentleman callers. Thanks so much Coll, for never leaving me hanging, or leaving me alone to find my own way home at the end of a debaucherous night out to go hook up with some random. We just don't do that to each other. 

Unspoken code. 

The world can be a tough place for us half-reformed party girls, and I'm so grateful to have you to reminisce with over the recklessness. The nights that carried over until morning, the trying to have a nice dinner out and ending up running into an old friend that led to shots that led to.... the usual. But also, occasional nights in to watch movies and just chill. We're starting to get that now, you know? 

Plus those hangovers get harder with age. 

We're more alike than I am with most of my other friends. I always feel at home, thanks. No matter how long it's been, we will catch up quick. It just works. It's great to have a friend that's just always in it to chill out. Not make a plan. Know it'll all work out. 

I'll maybe never be able to express my gratitude to you for being my friend, half-birthday twin, my honorary sister. But I am SO very grateful. You've got a piece of my heart I never want back. Keep it, I know it's in good hands. Thanks.

As you said, it's not summer until we drink an Oberon together or both of us are covered in hives. Welp, we've got the latter covered. It's summer and I miss you.

Yeah, we look good from behind.

 Love you. 

XO Sara

thanks, part 4.

Hey Guys, another week of thank youuuuus. Who knew I could keep this going for four weeks? Not me. Sorry it's so long, just know I'm making a conscious effort to cut down my post-lengths. What can I say, though? I've got a big mouth.

As always, thanks for reading!

XO Sare


 

Hi, Stranger.

So, I know we're not speaking. Since the falling out; that argument via text about you being shady and unreliable and me being morally bankrupt. But I'll allow this thank-you note to slide in and I don't see it as me giving in first. If you do, that's fine. We tend to disagree these days anyway.

I don't know if you know this, but you were my first crush in a new town. The end of eighth grade, track practice- I'm cast as the new kid, yet again. You were tall and quiet with a weird name. I was desperate to make friends that didn't participate in the make-yourself-pass-out game in the bathroom during lunch. Anyway, we never spoke, you and I. But I knew who you were and I'm just glad you were there, thanks for being a distraction from the garbage I was wading in.

In high school we had German together every. single. semester. And usually another class too. And cross country practice. And track practice. I thankfully made brighter, better girl friends. We saw each other, interacted every single day. You were always so cranky during wrestling season, even if you weren't cutting weight. Now that I think about it, that may have just been the winter blues. They get the best of us. You always took the longest to take tests and quizzes- checking and rechecking, still hunkered over that too-small desk when the bell rang. I can't remember exactly when, but at one point we became actual, legitimate friends. You were so weird, your family life and religion-centered upbringing- when all along I thought Catholic guilt was bad. I'm so glad I knew you then, thanks for being the first real male friend I ever had.

I remember having a vague crush on you throughout high school, but nothing heartbreaking, I had a crush on just about everyone. I think I more liked you as a person, the strong, stoic, soft spoken type. Anyway, you never dated. I was boy crazy. I've always been a little boy crazy.

And then the summer after high school. That summer the four of us hung out every single night. That's not an exaggeration, every night. You three guys and me. Sometimes we'd throw in a few more faces, one girl we were all friends with or another, but it was always the four of us. D left for college first. M worked nights. School started late for me, almost October. You were getting ready to go on your mission. Thanks for that summer. Thank all three of you for that summer. It was sticky and full of fishing and country music and driving around aimlessly. All that time and heat to kill, but nowhere to go. 

You're a DAD now. And a step dad. Or maybe you adopted her son. I wouldn't know.  I never saw you as the type to get married young or to have children. You were never nurturing, I can't picture you as a father-figure. I mean, engaged after how many months of knowing her? Five? I find it ridiculous and I'm sorry for that. I've seen you as many things, but never a nurturer. Remember how you used to eat locusts after cross country practice when people would pool together enough money to make the bet worth your while? I wonder what you spent your winnings on.

Anyway, I can't help feeling like I lost you to that mission somehow. Two years in Brazil. I was busy partying and finding my passion for the world and you were learning Portuguese and bringing God to the people. You did come to visit once before you shipped out, though. The three guys, my three amigos. It wasn't your scene, but still, thanks for coming. I'm sorry if I'd changed or something. It was never something I could feel tangibly, but it must have seemed stark.

I can't remember exactly when, but at some point during that summer we all hung out every day I stopped seeing you as someone I had a crush on, and started seeing you as just my friend. Not that I didn't like you as a person anymore, I guess I just felt you were bigger than that. You were my friend. Friendships don't usually end suddenly in a break-up. Maybe I subconsciously wanted to remove the risk of losing you. I don't know.

Anyway, you were gone before long. Brazil. I wrote you letters. You wrote me letters. The entire two years. I'd never have guessed you'd have written me consistently for two years. I mean, I've seen how slow you write. How you agonize over every sweep of the pencil. (always pencil) German, remember? Sometimes I just want to remind you that people write in pencil so they don't HAVE to be as careful. Pencil can be erased.

I always write in pen. But you got my letters, you know that.

Anyway, thanks for being my friend then. Really, being my friend. you sent me birthday cards when I had no idea you even knew when my birthday was. You told me how you felt in small ways for the first time since I'd known you. We were friends. I tried to send you a stick of gum once, that letter got sent back with a nice little note from the church.

I was pissed.

Thanks for those two years of easing me into losing you. I mean, we had letters, but really, they can only go so far. Especially when you came back the way you did. I always knew you were close-minded, and I'm grateful in a sense that I got to experience a true friendship with someone whose views differ so greatly from my own, but when you got back it was a different kind of intolerance, you seemed angry.

I can't decide if I blame whoever brainwashed you or just YOU for changing so much. Where you used to be shy and almost gentle, you became rash and completely fanatical. It was probably bad timing, too. I mean, there I was going through a personal ideological revolution of sorts and it just came to a head.

One of the last times I saw you was at your engagement party. It was a weird night. M and I were the only friends from high school you invited there. And we weren't even invited to the wedding. What happened to you? It was so weird to hear someone call you Baby. I never pegged you as a pet-name guy. But then again, I guess you married your first girlfriend. I probably wouldn't have liked her anyway, but it was icing on the cake to see her act whiny and fake the entire time we were there.

Then you and your wife were at A's wedding. What a horrid night in general. I mean, the wedding was lovely, but the table vibes were enough to send me to the open bar and mingle with strangers instead of catching up with three of my best friends. Your wife was pregnant with your first child that night, I remember thinking it completely ludicrous. It was the first time in years the four of us were together, sitting at the same purple-clad table. Dressed up older than I felt. I got drunk, you and your pregnant spouse left early.

The next thing I remember in regard to you isn't your daughter's birth, although it should be. I was ready to be the eccentric old friend that buys cashmere sweaters that are completely impractical for a rapidly growing infant.  It wasn't to be, eh?

I guess my heart could have put it to rest if you married a woman you were madly in love with that had a jealous streak and didn't trust your old fishing buddy who happened to be a girl. That wouldn't be too much to handle. But I just remember the bubbling rage that started in the pit of my stomach and quickly boiled up my insides and out of my mouth. Me, screaming alone in my car. Attacked for the way I think. The way I patched together a world for myself through reading and seeing and doing everything I can get my hands on around me with wonder and excitement and open eyes.

Now, I know everyone doesn't see the world the same way. It's a truly remarkable phenomenon and it lends us something completely invaluable, perspective.

But I've never had my character or personal being attacked the way that you did that day, so easily. I guess I'm grateful that I've learned from that my ability to stand by myself, unshakable for what I believe is right. Thanks for the test, I passed. Maybe I'm not religious, but my way of thinking doesn't have me attacking other's for having different ideals than I do, either.

And thanks for making it so easy to walk away. I know you started pacing the other way as soon as I did, as if preparing for a standoff. Only there will be no standoff, because other than one last thank you, my honest gratitude to you for showing me that I'm growing and will continue to do so and thrive, I'll never turn back around.

You may have the Mormon God on your side, but I've got the golden rule. 

I'll always wish the best for you and yours, and I'm eternally grateful to have once called you my friend.


 

XO Sara

thanks, part 3.

Looks like this lovely feature will live to see another week.


The letter below is addressed to my dear friend Devin, who now lives in Chicago. We met at work and he pretty much got me through the first five months at my current job.  




Hey, D.


I'm smiling while I type this right now because I feel kind of silly about it. But let's get it rolling, shall we?!


Remember the first time we hung out away from the office? Thanks for suggesting that. Tennessee beat Ohio State, it was March Madness,  we were alumni rivals and pretty much instant friends. It was a shitty game and I was bitterly disappointed and you started singing Rocky Top right there in the bar in Indianapolis. We barely knew each other and you were yelling throughout the place and cursing at your players and we settled in as friends that very night. Mutual respect, or something like it.


What a gamble though, you know? That transition from work friends to real friends can be a dangerous game. Not for us. The office where we met and the job from hell, it brought us together- so I guess I can't hate it too much. That place is brutal, though huh? I'm still wasting away in my little cubicle cell and you've got two moves under your belt since then. It's fantastic that you keep growing, fighting tooth and nail to get to your professional goal, it reminds me that I need to fight off looming complacency at every turn.

Remember the email thread? There were periods of time I spent more effort crafting responses to the thread than I did on work. Like, long periods of time. Thanks for the bullet points. Thanks for the morning greetings, the promises that it would be a great day, the onion articles, the laughs. Thanks for all of it. I wouldn't have fared without you to prod me along.


I like having a friend that I can relate to, who grew up with a father also in this industry. The constant travel, the moving around. Serial transplants. It's probably why we get along so well, always having to make new relationships sort of forces you to learn how to talk to people, make fast friends. Thanks for getting me that way,  for being able to relate on that level. Charismatic fathers and cocktail hours, we're alike in so many ways.

There's something to be said about strong personalities; at one point we'll be having a casual conversation about anything from sports to politics and before I realize it we're shouting over each other to get a point across. In a public setting. Causing a scene. Per usual. It's never conflict driving our conversation, it's excitement, interest, passion. Thanks for bringing that to the table too, it feels good to have heated and animated conversations. It feels good to have someone give it back.  


You wear your heart on your sleeve and expect the best out of me. You hold me to it. Thank you, truly, for that. And when I'm down and doubting myself and deeping worried that I'll never get out of here, you remind me how smart and talented I am. You tell me how I'm meant for more and encourage me to reach out and take it. I'm so grateful to have such an eloquent friend with so much faith in my abilities. Even when I'm hating myself and lower than low, you will take the time to raise me up, no questions asked. I only wish I can be there that way when you need it too.


Dev, you make me feel cool, and so important. You want to hear what I have to say and you make the effort to stay in touch with me when I'm busy getting swept up in the bullshit of my everyday life. I'm sorry, so sorry, that I'm so terrible at making sure we're still always on the same page, all caught up on what's going on in our own lives. I feel terrible when I miss you or forget to call you back. And then I let too much time pass and I feel even worse and guilty and avoid it altogether.  I feel absolutely horrid that I didn't have the time and energy to drive over to where you were to see you this weekend when you were in town. You would have made the effort. You're always willing to make the effort.


I miss that. I miss getting beers with you after work, sitting outside and taking about our families and our goals and our hellish workdays and the motley crew of our department. You're one of the best and I know you've literally never had an ulterior motive to get ahead. You do things the right way, the fair way. Life is so goddamn unfair, thanks for showing me the good ones can still end up on top. And you'll keep moving up, too. You're a hardest worker I know and you've earned every bit of that cockiness you throw out sometimes.


At the risk of getting overly emotional and sounding idiotic, I want to thank you for being so bold and in life's face. You're always fearlessly wearing your heart on your sleeve and being your this-is-what-I-expect-and-deserve, but also  let-me-help-you-self. You've never once complained to me about how hard it is for you to get around, with the exception of the "Really? You people don't have any fucking handrails? This is a goddamn death trap." Comment last spring after a couple of Beams. I can't imagine how much you've gone through for your CP, and still, it never rules your life or defines you as a person. You'd be damned before it ever did. You've got such a big personality, a great personality, that I often times forget all the shit you've got to deal with on a daily basis.


You're stronger than I'll ever be, thanks for showing me such a forceful strength in spirit. You'll always be one of my best friends, no matter how often we see each other or how frequently we find time to catch up with one another. I'm so grateful to be able to safely say that.


Thanks for coming out, you always bring all you've got.


XX Sara

thanks, part 2.

First of all, I went and saw Bridesmaids last night with my friend Erin. Hilarious, seriously. Everyone knew I thought it was hilarious too, because I'm the loudest theater-laugher known to man. Let me just go ahead and say I'm sorry in case we're even in the same theater together. I'm sorry.  Now I feel the overwhelming compulsion to start quoting the movie, ("Hey, fuck buddy!") but that would be lame because those who haven't seen it yet won't get my random quoting out of context like that, which I realize because I'm not a guy. And really, I'm feeling a tad too lazy to provide context notes today. Sorr.


Also hilarious, my luck. It was five dollar movie night, and I was damn right thrilled when the downtown $$$$ (yes, that denotes PRICEY) movie theater didn't rape my bank account. Apparently this five dollar movie holler happens every Tuesday. Color me impressed, I'll be back (on a Tuesday), you gem of a place.


Anyway, despite the hilarity of everything, I arrived home feeling a little "Oh, shit." About the movie. Because damn it, it's funny because it's true. And it's hilarious because I totally can be that girl in the movie, failing professionally, not fixing her car, and getting a little jealous/nutzoid of bitches tryna move in on her friends. And fuck, does life throw protagonist lady number one some unfortunate curve-balls. And a cute and uncannily patient/thoughtful cop. With an accent.  But also, curveballs.


Anyway, in honor of the movie and OMG BESTIES, the Thank You note feature will live on another week, and I'm writing this week to my very own best friend 4evz, Courtney. She lives in Montana and works for Glacier National Park and is pretty much the bad ass-est person I know. This may get lengthy, fair warning.



Rockstar,


I'm going to jump right in here and everything may get kind of disorganized, but I'm not too worried about it because you always seem to be able to sift through the bullshit and understand my point. This is a thank you note, by the way, so just bear with me. Oh yeah, thank you for always getting me. Also, I'm taking it there; that's right, let's get emotional.


Court, thank you for being yourself, always and no matter what. Yourself is just so fucking cool. I remember meeting you at the start of my freshman year in the dorms.  My roomates were a gaggle of freaks and the other girls on my floor tanned a lot, spent large portions of time making door signs for any marginally good-looking guy that lived in our building, and studied too much. (probably studied the correct amount.) You were cool, you had listened to good music since middle school when I was just trying to dip my toes in, you laughed really loud, you didn't hold back. I bet it probably pissed the tanorexics off when you started dating the hottest guy in the building two weeks into the year. But whatever, that's not even a reason I liked you, I just think it's funny. We forged this friendship of something larger than life on adventures like stealing chairs from bars, busting bottles in the street, hanging out at the Ag frat, and smuggling Keystone into the rodeo on a whim. Basically, not giving a good goddamn what anyone else was doing, we were working on our own agenda. You were the first person to call out the fact that in college you felt like you were making drinking buddies instead of friends, and it woke me up, made me want to change that fact, I'm so grateful you did.


You never try too hard, which I admittedly find myself doing at times, and the most interesting people just gravitate towards you. Thanks for gravitating towards me, you're one of the only people I know who is unshakably sure of who you are at all times, and it means so much to me. When I'm just going with the flow, playing along with a conversation to look informed/in the know/not so goddamn naive, you're ready to call it to a halt and ask for more information. You never just pretend to get what's going on for the sake of looking better, you're genuinely interested in finding out. I love that about you. Plus, you're not afraid to seek things out for yourself. You'll decide to be interested in something and become so passionate and informed about it, that I can't help but be interested and invested in it too, I know so much more about the world because of you.


Thank you for following your dreams along the less-beaten path that they've led you. That summer you worked in Idaho for the forest service and I worked as a kayaking instructor in New Hampshire changed everything for you, didn't it? When you got back you were already geographically fixed to another point, a westward one. I'd known you'd head west for a while before that, but you'd finally hit the breaking point you needed in order to just leap. If Ryan was good for nothing else, he was good for giving you an opportunity to head out there with someone to tether to, if only briefly. It blows my mind how unattached you are to stuff. You have always had so much more perspective on what is necessary to carry than I do. I feel so much gratitiude towards you for really making me question what things I need to be happy, and why I am so goddamn materialistic at times. But that doesn't mean I'm going to stop paying two hundred dollars for jeans that make my ass look better than unicorns sailing majestically across a rainbow-covered sky, over a sea of champagne, because with jeans I really hold tight to the belief that you get what you pay for. Seriously, though, you've got this perspective on what you need that I wish I could duplicate in myself.


By November that year you were packing up, tying loose ends, leaving OSU. I remember once, a couple of years after that initial leap, you told me that the jump was the hardest part. But you just went ahead and did it, with what appeared to me as total focus, ease, and complete assurance. You packed up The Bull, that trusty 1990's Taurus station wagon, and left everything that didn't fit behind. I remember burning as many CDs as I possibly could from you the night before you left, printing out pictures of us, threatening Ryan over the phone with certain death if he hurt you. I didn't know what to say to calm us both down, it was such a greater risk than I think either of us had ever seen anyone we actually knew take. And then you were gone and I remained. It was a hard winter, but I was always mostly okay, even if I didn't have the guts to drop out of school and follow my dreams to wilder places, you sure as hell did. Thanks for that, and please don't ever feel the slightest bit guilty for leaving then, you allude to it occasionally, but I never felt it as a slight or a wedge between us. If anything, it cemented the fact of our best friend-ness to me. You're so brave, and you make me braver, you make me need more for myself by showing me that settling has never even crossed your mind. I miss having you near, but I feel better, stronger, like the world is in more perfect orbit, knowing you're where you should be, actively pursuing overwhelming joy. It inspires me to reach out and grab that for myself, even if I'm much slower going and more unsure of what will ultimately bring me contentment.




Thank you for making it work out there. God, it was a struggle at times, wasn't it? I know it must have been even harder than you let me know to move across the country on a dream and then have nearly everything go wrong. Through the Big C, a torn ACL, no health insurance, finding a way to get yourself back into school and getting your degree, all with no help from anyone else, you are so tough. I remember that first time I flew out to Bozeman to see you, we spent so much time driving around so I could take in all the beauty of your new home, it was just breathtaking. You'd just had surgery to remove the cancer they'd found in your ovaries, which is what had motivated my trip in the first place. I touched down expecting to find you sick and feeble and to need me to nurse you back to health- and instead we climbed a mountain the fourth day I was there. I'm sure it was painful, maybe excrutiating, but the Universe should just know nothing will ever be able to keep you from the mountains. You're so tough. You never lost sight of your ultimate goal and you gave your entire person to getting there, thanks for showing me what that looks like.


Thank you for being an excellent pen pal. And for not holding it against me when my letters are scarce. It's true, we go through long spans of time without speaking, but somehow you've always got a valid mailing address for letters to reach me. Thanks for keeping track of me, I know it's a feat at times. The words you write always jump right off the page at me, it's like I'm reading your mood and outlook at the time you wrote them. I get a thrill from seeing you and talking to you on the phone, but your letters are truly enthralling as well. It would have been easy for our friendship to fade as thousands of miles separate us, and have for more time than we were ever geographically close, but you're my person. The one who I never need to explain why I self-sabotage and let myself be crippled with fear. You always already know, I'm so glad for that. Even when we're not in touch, we're still in tune- that's important to me. You always make me feel relevant, even when we're dealing with completely different shit.

Thank you for being my best friend. Legitimate best. You encourage me to go with whims and follow my heart and do what's right for me. You listen to me, and I'm not saying other people don't listen to what I'm saying, but when I'm telling you the bullshit I can't get through in my head, you help me wade through it and come out in one piece on the other side. If I'm telling you about some fucked up dream I had or how I did something I'm not particularly proud of, you're not just going to take my side, you're going to understand what the fuck got me there to begin with. We can sit in a McDonalds, or sift through a thirft store, or climb a mountain together and the Courtney I get will be the same no matter what, I'm so thankful for that.


Thanks, my westward friend  for not being afraid to do what makes you feel the most full of life, and thank you so much for assuring me that I'm not selfish as I stumble down my own path to fulfillment. It means more to me than you'll ever know that you are confident in my ability to succeed. I can't wait for all that's to come, because in a friendship like ours, there's always a new pinnacle.

So there you go. I could keep writing for hours, probably, but I'm guessing you get the gist. You're the best ever. My best ever.  Next time we're in the same time and place we're having a Brand New dance party.


Thanks to you, I'm always striving to move in the right direction. Thank you.

Love Love Love you,



Stellar