"Wake up!"

Friday, May 1, 2009
5:06 pm Free time??? Really???

I had the worst nightmare yesterday. I had this dream that I had to meet with this professor to go over my commencement speech. The day before I'm supposed to meet him, I get this email from him asking me to come earlier and to a different classroom. So I go to this classroom (I'm looking stunning, by the way), and I walk in and see all these older students, and I realize it's a graduate oral presentation class. I sit down off to the side, and everyone's looking at me, wondering who I am. Then the professor says, "This is Tara, the undergraduate speaker for COM." And everyone claps. I smile. Then he says, "She's going to give us her speech, and we're going to critique her."

Oh. Sweet. Jesus.

I start to panic. I haven't read this speech in weeks! Slowly and shakily, I go to the front of the room and begin to give the speech. I'm sweating and my hands are shaking. Wake up, wake up. In the middle of it, the professor cuts me off, "Okay, slow down." I can feel myself getting hot, my face is red. Everyone's staring at me. I finish, and they critique me. "You're going too fast." "You need to enunciate." "Don't lose your energy." Oh, please wake up. And just when I think I'm about to wake up, the professor says, "Okay, do it again." I can feel myself sweating through my shirt, my hair sticking to my neck. I give the speech again, much better this time, but I still get critiqued. I feel my ears going red. Wake up!!! PLEASE!!! Finally, he lets me go. I grab my bag and run out of the classroom, down the hallway, and out of COM, flip-flops thwacking.

I stand outside in the sunlight, squinting up at the COM building.

Please wake up. Please wake up. Please wake up.

But I never woke up.

It wasn't a dream.

It was just Thursday.

Love,
Tara

"Messenger of Wisdom"

Tuesday, April 28, 2009
6:07 pm My allergies are killing me.

Well, today was my last day at my internship, and it was definitely bittersweet. I won't miss schlepping out to Watertown twice a week, but I will miss a lot of the people there. It was a fun job, overall, and I'll miss all the media contacts I had email relationships with, whose faces I will never see.

There's this path outside the magazine's building that runs along a narrow strip of the Charles River. I didn't know about it in January, when I started, but once the snow melted away it became my little short cut. I ran along it each morning on my way to work and each evening on my way to the bus, gulping in fresh air as I listened to my Ipod.

A couple weeks ago, the day I found out I didn't get a job I wanted, I was walking along the river to my bus when I saw this weird bird. I thought maybe it was a crane, but I didn't even know if they lived up here. All I could make out was its dark silhouette as it stood alone on a bank under a bridge.

I saw it again last Friday when I found out I was chosen as the commencement speaker for COM. I was sitting on a bench during my lunch break, on the phone, when I saw it pop its head out of the water. It didn't even look like it was swimming... it seemed to be just walking through the water, body completely submerged, its long neck bobbing under the water and then popping back up again. It cracked me up. I looked up cranes on Wikipedia and found that in Chinese culture they are considered messengers of wisdom. I liked that. But then I found out that adult cranes don't like to swim, which ruined my theory, but whatever.

I was looking for the not-crane when I left work today. It walked in the water next to me as I made my way down the path and up onto the bridge. When I got to the bridge, I paused for one last look at it, but I couldn't find it.

Then it stuck its head up again from the depths of the middle of the river, and I watched as it swam away, making ripples in the water.

Love,
Tara

"They always do."

Thursday, April 23, 2009

9:01 pm Ooooh the irony.

"Your blog made me cry. Also it's something to remember at this hard time. Even when it doesn't seem like things will work out. They always do. Love you"

Kaitlyn sent me this text yesterday after I got rejected from a job I really wanted. It's funny how I wrote that post about how things always work out, and then a day later I got shut down... yet again.

This morning, via text, Mom asked me what I wanted for my birthday. I texted back: "Here's my list: 1. A job. 2. A sense of purpose. 3. A reason to go on."

Not necessarily in that order.

I'm laughing at the irony, I really am. Hahahahaha. I'm sharing this action shot of me, depressed and watching tv in bed, to show you how funny I find it all.

I hate it when my wisdom comes back to bite me.

Love,

Tara

"Well, She Did, And She Does, And She'll Do It Again"

Sunday, April 19, 2009
6:59 pm Still in bed. Don't judge me.

I don't knowwww what to blog aboutttt. I was in a really good mood (despite a hangover), and now I'm kind of blah. I don't know. Last night we celebrated Maria's birthday, and it was awesome. We had a ton of people over for pizza and cupcakes and beer pong, and then we went to The Tap in Fanueil where we danced and sang along to the live music. It was so fun, but when they played "Wonderwall" Maria teared up! And then I teared up. And Michelle teared up. And all of a sudden we were all hugging each other and singing along. It was the first time I've really gotten emotional thinking about the end of the school year and college and life as I know it.

I'm graduating in less than a month, and it's weird because things are starting to end. All of my final projects are due on April 30, and then I'm just... done. My internship will be wrapping up soon, as will my classes. I bought a graduation dress when I was home for Easter, and as much as I love shopping, it was weird. Sometimes I'll be walking down Comm. Ave, something I do every day, and I'll realize soon I won't be walking there every day anymore. I look at my friends and realize I won't see them all the time anymore either. We won't be able to run into each others' rooms when we finally wake up on a Saturday or Sunday morning to compare stories from the night before like we've done every weekend for the past four years.

I worked at the COM Accepted Students Open House yesterday, and I was remembering how four years ago, I was an accepted student attending that very open house, still not sure where I should go to school. By the time I left the Open House, I knew I wanted to go to BU. By talking to the students who were working at the Open House, I realized BU was the right school because I wanted to be like them. They were outgoing and smart and excited about their lives. That's how I wanted to be.

At the end of the day, there's a Student Panel where parents and prospective students can ask questions about anything from dining halls to classes to financial aid, whatever. I had been asked to be on the panel for the April 10 Open House, but I had my internship, so I couldn't go. I was bummed I wouldn't be able to do the Student Panel, because I have a very vivid memory of watching the student panel when I was a prospective student and thinking it was so cool. They didn't need me for this Open House's Student Panel, so I sat in the audience and watched a bunch of my friends do it. I was thinking back to how scared and nervous I had been about what my future held just four years ago when I realized how far I'd come. I was sitting in the front row with my boss, Bryan, the Manager of Student Services, and Micha, the Assistant Dean. Micha had once seemed so intimidating to me, and now, here I was, sitting with her, laughing and making fun of the people we knew on the panel. I had a real moment of "You've come a long way."

Now I'm sitting in my bed, still in my pajamas, watching reruns of "Jon and Kate, Plus 8." In a minute I'm going to make some dinner and then plan out the next two weeks of my life. Things are going to be crazy while I try to balance finishing my final projects and continuing to apply for jobs. But here's the thing: I don't feel stressed. For once. Shocker, right? I know. Of all the times to be freaking out in my life, this should probably be it, but I'm not. Because yesterday, working at the Open House and then seeing all of my closest friends dancing and singing together, I realized things work out. Everything worked out for me. It really makes me emotional to say that, but I couldn't be happier right now. When you realize that everything you've ever worried or stressed about turns out okay in the end, there isn't a better feeling. It's like you always hope things will turn out okay and brace yourself for when they don't.

But they did.

And they do.

And they will again.

Love,
Tara

"You smell SO good!"

Thursday, April 9, 2009

4:13 pm :-)

There is only one word that can describe yesterday: luxurious. Yesterday, my aunt Robbi took me out for my surprise graduation present. The actual graduation is over a month away, so I could still really screw everything up and end up not graduating, but I didn't remind her of that. I took the early gift as a sign of her faith in me.

So, Grandma drove up for the day, and her and Robbi picked me up from Student Services. They came in and met everyone at the office, which was super cute. I had been told to dress in "dressy casual" attire, so I wore my new silky, green blouse from Express (about which Stephanie subtly commented later, during the show, "By the way, yous a ho."), and I spent some time with the curling iron, so my hair was pretty bangin'. I also wore the black, skinny jeans Robbi had bought me last time I visited her. I was good to go.

Robbi refused to tell me what my gift was, only revealing we were going to see "Neil" once we were in the car. Now, I need to back up a little and tell you that the night before, Robbi had written me a very strange email in which she requested that I not wear any kind of perfume because lately her tongue had been swelling up around people who wore perfume. Never one to question the mental stability of my family members, I obliged.

So, we arrive at a verrrry nice apartment building near the Christian Science Church. When the doorman said "Ooooh, you're going to see Neil," with a wink, I didn't know whether to be excited or a little scared. But when I stepped into Neil's apartment full of glass bottles and jars and finally figured out what was going on, it was like all my dreams came true. Neil creates custom fragrances -- he was going to make me my own perfume called... can you guess? Tara.

After asking me lots of questions and having me smell several different scents, he put together a custom blend that includes everything from vanilla to ocean musk to hyancinth to sandalwood. One of the questions he asked me was a kind of fill-in-the-blank: "If someone were to smell you wearing this perfume, you would want them to say, 'You smell..."

"SO GOOD!" I blurted out.

And believe me, I do. Neil made me two bottles of my signature scent, and he's sending me the body wash. One bottle is to keep on my dresser, and the other is for my purse, or so Neil thought. When Neil suggested it, Grandma jumped in and said, "No! Not your purse! She loses her purse..." Thank you, Grandma.

After my perfume was created, we all headed over to the Prudential for some shopping. I got a funky blue eyeliner from Sephora, and a tin of lip gloss that was the same kind that had been in my purse when everything was stolen in Madrid. Then we went to Godiva and got chocolate and perused the little flower stand in the food court, trying to find all the flowers whose fragrances we had just been sniffing at Neil's.

We briefly went to Chicco's for Grandma and Robbi, and when we left, we came upon a sunglasses kiosk. I started trying on pairs and found one Michael Kors pair particularly striking. I put them on, and the sunglasses guy told me I looked like a young Natalie Wood. SOLD.

I'm wearing the sunglasses now, as I write this. I'm not even kidding. You should see me.

After the shopping, we took a cab to Radius for dinner. We chose a restaurant in the financial district with the hope that Stephanie could join us. She did! We had a few drinks (I didn't even get carded!!!), and ate amazing food, and talked about the good old days. Robbi and Grandma filled us in on some of the craziness that went down before Stephanie and I were born, and then Robbi quizzed me on my last four years of college, asking things like "Best Date?" and "Best Girls' Night?"

After dinner, we took a cab to the Opera House and saw Dirty Dancing. It was amazing. The seats were great, and I was so impressed with the dancing. Everyone was just so...bendy. Remind me to do some stretches later...

After the show, tired and content, Stephanie took a cab back to her dorm, and Robbi and Grandma dropped me off at mine. It was a really great day, and I remember wishing every day could be that good.

Now, I'm off to eat some Easter candy Grandma gave me and pack for a long weekend at home.

And you can bet I'll be wearing my perfume and my sunglasses while I'm doing it...

Love,
Tara

"Smooth Shootin', Junior"

Sunday, April 5, 2009
10:28 am Where do I begin?

Last night I attended "Epic Saturday Night" at the Roxy, New England's leading weekly gay dance event. And it was everything I dreamed it could be. A bunch of people from COM (and by "people" I mean real adults in their late 20s who have careers and real lives) hang out after work and on the weekends, and now that Mark and I are 21 we decided we wanted to join. Last night was quite an induction.

To be honest, I wasn't really looking forward to going. Maria, Brett, Brian and I went to J Tree to watch the UCONN game last night. If UCONN won, I was going to get at least second place in the pool, which was worth $50. If UCONN won and then UNC beat them, I was going to win it all. Read: $230. So, when UCONN lost I was not in a good mood. The only thing that cheered me up was being surrounded by lots of young men in UCONN jerseys. The thought of leaving that to be surrounded by uninterested, gay men did not appeal to me. Nevertheless, I left J Tree, ran home to change, and then ran to Mark's so we could go together. Yes, I actually ran that whole time.

I knew the night was going to be an interesting one when Mark and I decided to try out his roommate's breathalizer. Commonly used to prevent over-drinking, Mark and his roommates use it to see who can get the highest reading. This is what's about to graduate in a month and a half, America... So, Mark tries it out and gets like 0.04. Then I try and get like, 0.146! For the record, there is no way I was that high. I'd had two beers at J Tree, and was in the middle of a rum and coke at Mark's. We think because I sipped my drink and then did the breathalizer, I made the reading higher than it should be. I'm going to go with that...

So then Mark and I take a cab to Club Cafe to meet everyone, and as soon as we get out of the cab Mark realizes he left his phone in it. The cab had just pulled away, so Mark goes running after it, sprinting down Columbus Ave trying to flag down the cab. Just when Mark starts to give up, the cab takes a left turn and gets stopped at a light, and he was able to get his phone.

We go in to Club Cafe, a gay bar, and meet up with everyone. My boss Bryan, who is ridiculous sober, was hilarious with a few drinks in him. After a quick pregame sesh, we all walked over to the Roxy. On the way, a drag queen started walking with our group and left lipstick smudges all over the boys.

The Roxy was great! It was actually really nice to be able to dance like crazy and not get hit on! There was no line for the ladies room, and the bartender remembered me because I was one of like, five girls in the whole place. I ran into my friend, Ricky, and the whole night was just so fun.

Everything would have been perfect, had I not left my wallet in the cab on the way home at 3 in the morning. I woke up this morning and had a feeling something was wrong. I checked my phone - nope, I didn't drunk dial anyone I shouldn't have. I checked for my purse - yep, it was there. I checked inside my purse - keys, bank card, free condoms that Jen kept taking off the tables and handing to me, but nooooo wallet. Of-freaking-course. So, I tear my room apart looking for it, only to remember taking it out in the cab on the way home to give Mark money, and not exactly remembering if I ever put it back. Uuuughhhhh. Luckily, there was no money in it and my bank card and student ID were in my purse. The only important thing in it was my license, which I have to get renewed when I go home next weekend anyway. But still. So I call the cab service and they direct me to the Boston Police Department Carriage & Hackney Division (how much do you love that name???), which oversees all of the cabs in Boston and has one giant Lost & Found for all of the cab services. Obviously, they're not open on Sundays, but I filed a report online, and I'm hoping they have it. If they don't, someone else is going to be using my CVS card and has one extremely attractive license photo of me... NOT.

So, I'm bummed about the license thing and feeling like I should tell my mom, but a little nervous about the impending lecture. But, being the honest daughter that I am, I call home anyway. Here is a slightly condensed version of the conversation:

*Ring, Ring*

Stephanie (she's home for Zak's bday): Hello?

Me: Hey, what are you doing?

Stephanie: Nothing. What's up?

Me: Nothing. Can I talk to Mom?

Stephanie: Yes, but only if you tell me why you want to talk to her.

Me: I want to talk to her because I left my wallet in a cab last night.

Stephanie: (Gasp) Tara! She's going to be so mad at you!

Me: Well, there wasn't anything important in it! Just my license!

Stephanie: Okay, here she is.

Mom: Hi! There's a line outside the laundry room to talk to you!

Me: Aww. Wait, who? You and Steph?

Mom: Well, yeah. You only need two people to make a line.

Me: Sooo, last night was really fun, but I think I left my wallet in the cab...

Mom: Oh, Tara!

Me: Buttherewasn'tanythingimportantinitbecauseIdidn'thaveanymoneyinitand
mybankcardwasinmypursesoreallyit'sjustmylicenseIdon'thavebutIhavetogetthat
renewednextweekendanyway!

Mom: Okay, well that's lucky. Hold on a sec, your sister wants to talk to you.

Me: ...Okay.

Kaitlyn: Hi.

Me: Hey.

Kaitlyn: I just wanted to say, smooth shootin', Junior.


She's so supportive.

Love,
Tara

"Ouch!"

Thursday, April 2, 2009
9:24 am Late.

I have some sad news. I took out my cartilage piercing. For good. (I can see my mother jumping up and down right now...)

I pierced my cartilage second semester of my freshman year at a Claire's boutique in Downtown Crossing. Maria stood by for moral support, and we got dinner in a sketchy food court after the ordeal was over. Ironically, I provided her with moral support that same year when she got a tattoo on her wrist. She's currently undergoing laser surgery to have it removed. We helped each other make some dumb decisions freshman year.

Anyway, I loved my piercing. If I could, I'd have at least 7 piercings, but I've had to face the truth - my body doesn't like when I shove precious metals into it. For example, shortly after I got my cartilage piercing it became infected. Crazy infected. Like ear swollen, running a fever, swollen glands infected. I refused to take the piercing out, even though my ear had swollen up around the earring, so it became embedded in my ear. A doctor at Student Health prescribed me antibiotics, which eventually cleared up the infection, but also caused a brutal yeast infection (too much information? DEAL.).

For the past three years, the piercing has been getting infected every other week, no matter how often I clean it. I haven't been able to sleep on my left side. Every morning I have to pop my earring out of where it's become embedded in my cartilage. I have a bump of scar tissue on the back of my ear where the earring stud sticks through. It's been a struggle.

So the other night, after I had cleaned my ear and the earring and was fighting to shove the earring back through my poor ear, I thought why? Why are you doing this to yourself? Blood was starting to drip as I stabbed myself in the ear, and I looked at myself in the mirror, my face contorted in pain, and I just stopped. I slowly put the earring down, grabbed a tissue for my ear, and stood there, looking at the bloody hole I had created in my cute little ear. I was done.

Now I have a scar on my ear and a lone diamond earring on my dresser -- two things (scars and diamonds) that last forever and will serve as a reminder of an important lesson...

There are things in life you'll want, and you'll fight and suffer to keep them, only to realize you're much happier without.

Love,
Tara