4 Americans vs. London

Give 4 girls 12 hours to play in London, they can make that feel like a weekend. 

It only took me one 6 hour flight, 3 hour layover, 2.5 hour flight, 6 hour layover, and another 9 hour flight in the middle middle seat to get from Honolulu to London. Talk about an eternity. But once I united with my best friend, her sister, and her sister's best friend, I wiped the travel sleepies from my eyes and it was on. 

*Insert tourist things here*

I'll spare you from the boring details of sight seeing. Being someone who lives and works in a tourist city, I hate myself for being touristy over here. But let's face it, it's pretty rad to stand outside the queen of England's palace and wonder if she's kickin' it in sweat pants watching real housewives or if she constantly roams the halls of her massive home in a ball gown going over her daily itinerary of royal shit to do. 

As exhausted as we were, we rallied at about 12:03am and made the last train to town to find a club, being that it was our one and only night in London, not to mention a Friday night. We walked the streets, basically looking for where the people were flocking to. Turns out it was a club down a side street called Roxy with a mile long line. 

Talk about cultural differences. 

When we finally crammed into the bar, it smelled like severe body odor. Do people in England wear deodorant? I don't know. The bathroom had about 6 inches of space between the stalls and the sink. Skinny bitches only please. It still weirds me out that 18 year olds are trusted to be in clubs and bars. I thought it was cool that I could leave my jacket in the 'cloakroom' although the guy working in it wasn't amused by our excitement. Sorry we don't have cloakrooms in Hawaii sir, just let me think it's cool for a sec. 

I'll be the first to say I have a large love/hate relationship with the tipping system we use in the states. I love raking in that cash but hate the days I work my ass off for nothing. But man do I now have a new found appreciation for it after being in this club. Turns out when you make the same amount of money at the end of the night no matter how hard you work, it makes one work quite slow and lazily. 

I mean 100 people were constantly crowding the bar trying to get drinks and the 3 bartenders were throwing ice cubes at each other and walking around aimlessly. ZERO sense of urgency. And why should they? No one is waving cash in their face offering big money to make their drinks faster. By all means, take your sweet ass time. 

A shot is like 3/4 of an ounce. How do people catch a buzz out here? I ordered 2 vodka waters for Kailey and I. The girl looked at me like I just asked her feed my pet dragon. I'm like "vodka. water." With as much enunciation as humanly possible. No, not soda water. Water water. And vodka. And ice. And preferably a lemon. She told me I'm weird. Okay. 

Meanwhile 80s disco music is playing. Like where is the gangster rap I'm trying to twerk over here. 

Go back for a 2nd drink. Different bartender. YES I SAID WATER. NO NOT SODA WATER. He told me they only have soda water. I said tap water and he finally got it. Called me weird. Two people next to me called me weird. I get it, english people don't drink vodka water. Let's all move on. 

Everyone that approached us realized 3 sentences in that we're American. One girl told me she loved my accent, then proceeded to try to copy it. I kid you not, this is how she talked to me the rest of the night. 

*Valley girl voice* "Liiiiike are you like American? Like oh my gosh you totally are. Are you like drinking? Oh my gosh you like so are!"

Holy shit girlfriend we do NOT sound like that. 

She also asked Kailey if I'm bisexual. Her dude friend asked why I'm so mean. Kailey told them she and I are dating and I'm the jealous type. They bought it, but they didn't back off. I guess being the only 4 Americans around for miles made us exciting to be around. 

Our plan was to catch an uber back to the hotel. Woops forgot we need wifi for that. Unfortunately, Roxy didn't have free wifi. Also, fun fact, cabs here are pretty much all cash only. The four of us only had US dollars on us. We were living up to the stupid American stereotype by that point. 

We finally got our lives together and got into a cab. I asked if there are any drive throughs. Evidently that was a stupid question. Americans are obese because we eat Taco Bell at 3am after drinking all night. I figured it out. 

All in all, England is dope. 12 hours wasn't nearly enough but it was an excellent first glimpse at Europe. I'm getting on a cruise ship now to battle the seas with my best friend. Until my next country. 

Xo

I'm a Server, Not a Servant

Everyone has their opinions on what qualifies as a "real" job. Benefits, a 401k, paid sick days, enough money to pay your bills, whatever. Real or not, qualified or not, I'm a server. It is my job. It pays my bills. It does not mean you are superior to me. It does not mean you have any sort of right to trample me while you're enjoying your spinach dip. It does not mean you can choose to tip or not tip me based on how much money you feel like spending that day. It does not mean I am there to kiss your feet for the duration of your stay at my restaurant.

It means you chose to go out to eat as an alternative to cooking and feeding yourself, and you chose to pay me to relieve you of that burden.

While you relax in an air conditioned restaurant, tapping your toe, checking your watch, and harassing anyone with an employee shirt on about how much longer your food is going to take, there are 10-20 people in the kitchen (which is about 10 degrees hotter than the rest of the building) working vigorously to cook your steak well done with sauce on the side, double veggies, no onions. They are also cooking 53 other people's meals, virtually at the same time. 

While you roll your eyes because you had to ask me for a third time for a lemon for your water, I was sweeping up a broken glass, punching in six new orders, garnishing your lava flow with extra pineapples, checking on five burgers that have been punched in seven minutes ago but are 'taking too long', answering the phone to tell someone for the 108th time that day what time we close, switching the menus over from lunch to dinner, and grabbing a side of ranch for another table, virtually at the same time.

I am required to smile and be friendly anywhere from 5-12 hours a day while working. I am required to be nice and accommodating, even when someone is calling me a "f***ing bitch" for accidentally throwing away their beer bottle that wasn't quite empty yet. (This actually happened to me last night). I am required to fulfill your wants and needs to the best of my ability, all with a smile on my face and a kind and helpful tone in my voice, no matter how you are speaking to me or treating me, all with the hope that you might leave me a tip.

I can assure you that you are rarely the only person or table in my section at any given time. I promise you that I am serving at least 1-20 other people at the exact same time, all with only my two arms and two legs. I guarantee there are a handful of people who want lemons for their water that I just keep forgetting to bring back because you all also asked me to get you some ketchup, take the order of the person who just joined your table, split your checks six ways, and get you a dessert menu.

Every eye roll, heavy sigh, and raised voice is like a dagger in my gut. As if I am trying to keep you in this restaurant for one moment longer. As if I am forgetting the sliver of citrus you asked for on purpose to make sure your dining experience is below average. As if there is nothing on the planet I would rather be doing with my $50,000 college degree than getting you a slice of lemon for your water that you are only asking for because someone at this restaurant took the time to cut up 900 lemons just in case you might want one to spice up your sink water. Do you cut up lemons for your water at home? I would be willing to bet a year's worth of tips that you have never done that in your entire life. So I can't see how it can be too much to ask to just chalk it up as a loss when I forget to bring you a lemon. 

It would be glorious if you could instead, focus on the fact that I made sure your four-year-olds mac n' cheese came out in five minutes so she would stop ingesting crayons. Or the fact that you never once saw the bottom of your glass because I refilled it each time it was half empty. Or the fact that I let you squeeze in one more happy hour drink even though you sat down after happy hour ended. Or the fact that I let you move tables twice in the middle of a dinner rush because you didn't like the first two you were given. Or the fact that there are three layers of skin seared off of my forearm because I was holding your hot plate of food the whole time you were staring at each other trying to remember what you ordered.

It would also be lovely if you could recognize the physical and emotional exhaustion that comes with being a server. If you could know that I go in the freezer to cry sometimes after a customer screams at me and calls me names for accidentally forgetting something or accidentally spilling something. If you could realize how disappointing it is to see a zero written on the tip line after all the work I put in to making sure your experience at my restaurant was mildly enjoyable. If you could remember that I only make about $3 per hour after taxes and that I rely on tips to pay my bills based off of a system put into place in the United States by someone other than me. If you could understand that I have to give my bartenders, food runners, bussers, and hosts a percentage of your bill, regardless if you tip me or not. (Yes, that means if you leave me nothing, I literally pay money out of my pocket to serve you). If you could feel the pain of having to pay for someone's tab with my own money because they walked out on their bill or refused to pay for something. If you could just see that although I am a server, I am not your servant.

Eating out is a luxury. Whether someone is handing you french fries or setting a filet mignon on your table, that someone is being paid less than the minimum wage to smile at your family, even on their absolute worst days and make sure you all have everything you need to satisfy your hungry bellies so you don't have to do it yourself. I'm not saving you from a burning building, but you did decide all on your own that you wanted to spend money at an establishment to be fed. That does not come with some divine right to treat me like a servant. You are not giving me a $7 tip in exchange for one whole hour to verbally abuse me. You are giving me a $7 tip in exchange for a meal that costs less than it should that gets cooked to perfection and brought right to your table so you can spend that extra few dollars on a tip for me to put in my pocket and split with my coworkers later.

I'm an adult, same as you, working to make money to pay my bills, same as you. You and I are not that different. 

So please, tip your servers. Try your best not to call them names. And forget about the lemon just this once.

Sincerely, 

One of many frustrated servers

I Graduated From Prison

I've been vegging out really hard in bed the last few days. I mean bundled up in my down comforter, laptop appropriately propped up so I can watch Netflix until my eyes bleed. Sometimes even the beach doesn't sound more appealing than my bed.

It's given me a lot of time to think, as anyone could imagine (15 seconds between each new episode to be exact).

Many people have seen a particular post on my Facebook and have asked, nonstop, if I'm moving home. Well flat out, the answer is no. But with all this time laying around with nothing but time to ponder my life, I've realized I totally can if I want to. I can go anywhere I want.

Since graduating college, actually some of you know it was even before graduation that I started having a massive breakdown. As far back as I can remember, the plan was to go to college and get a degree. I remember putting some of my allowance in the bank to save up for college when I was still in elementary school, even though college seemed like a lifetime away when I was seven years old.

Big surprise, my mom knew it would come faster than I thought, but I just wasn't on board with that yet. For all I knew I had plenty of time until I would stroll into a university.

I began looking at colleges in high school and even then, the Friday night football games took priority over filling out applications. I finally chose the University of Hawaii after two long (but now that I look back, quick) years in community college. I flew off to paradise to get that degree but came to find out I would not be graduating in four years. I was behind one year and would have to attend the university a little longer than planned. This was devastating. I felt like I would be in school until I was 90 years old.

Would I ever graduate? Would I ever be able to finally say I had a bachelor's degree? It felt like another lifetime would go by until that happened. Then one day, I woke up and it was my last first day of school ever.

*Insert mental breakdown here*

How in world was I seven years old, "saving up for college" like yesterday? All of the sudden I was five months out from graduation and I realized I forgot to set a new goal.

All this time I had been striving to get my degree. I was about to be holding it in my hands and I had NO idea what I would do next. I cried a lot. I called my mom a lot. I sulked even more and somehow managed to graduate my final semester from UH on the dean's list.

I was incredibly proud, I think my parents were more proud, but I still felt like something was missing. I had a hole in my heart and I didn't know what I was going to do to fill it. I didn't (and still don't) know what kind of career path I wanted to take. I didn't (and still don't) know where I wanted to settle down. I was (and still am) just working at a bar and living in Hawaii.

I felt lost for a long time without school. I had been going to school nonstop since preschool. Nine months since I graduated and it still feels incredibly strange to never write papers or study for exams. I lived and breathed school for 23 years. There was nothing to replace all the time school used to take up and I saw it as wasted space. Space I didn't even think to fill and now it would just sit there, empty and useless.

Today, though, is a new day. Nine months since graduation and I'm still very unsure of where I will go next, but I realized today what a blessing that truly is. I am free from the chains of term papers and exams. The prison gates of college opened and I walked out into the world a free woman.

See, all this time, every move I made was to get one step closer to my degree. Sure I could make detours here and there but always jumped right back on the path toward graduation. Now that I have my BA, my stepping stones that were, at one time, in a perfectly straight line, are now all over the place. I can literally go where ever I want, and I never ever have to go back. I can leave Hawaii, I can leave the university, and I don't have to rush back for anymore first days of school.

I thought finishing school left a hole in my heart because school was missing. However, that part of my heart simply filled to the brim, and I can fill this new empty space with new adventures I haven't even thought of yet. Whether it's the career of a lifetime or the vacation of a lifetime, I have full unrestricted freedom to choose what I want to do next.

So back to everyone's question about whether or not I am planning to move home. Although I am not heading back to Arizona, I have been contemplating my next destination. Denver is at the very top of my list. Today, while mindlessly scrolling through instagram I even momentarily thought about just picking up and hopping over to a different island for a while. The best feeling in the world is knowing the possibilities are virtually endless. 

I am a free bird.

An Open Letter To Caitlyn Jenner Haters

Dear Misunderstood,

Caitlyn Jenner, formerly known as Bruce Jenner, won Glamour Magazine's Woman of the Year award. You're upset. Caitlyn was a man for over 65 years. She didn't get her period in 7th grade during gym class. She didn't have those awkward years of stuffing her training bra before puberty kicked in. She never carried the weight of a child growing inside her. She never had the responsibility of birthing that child. She never fought breast cancer, enduring months upon months of chemo and radiation. She never joined the army and she never saved lives over seas. So you're upset that she received this award anyway.

You're misunderstood though. You don't understand her. You don't understand the agony she's endured her entire life on the inside. You don't understand the never-completely-satisfied taste in her mouth even after winning olympic medals in the men's olympics.

You see a man dressing in women's clothing on the cover of magazines, winning awards created for women. It's confusing, it's difficult to understand, and it's very hard to be supportive of. There are women enduring hardships all over the world. There are women saving lives all over the world. There are women who are seemingly more deserving of this award than Ms. Jenner. And I'm so sorry that you can't understand how wrong you are.

While I agree there are hundreds of thousands of brave women out there, extremely deserving of an award for the things they've done and the misfortune they've been through, I'm afraid I can't agree that this does not include Caitlyn Jenner.

I'm sorry you've never had to live your entire life wondering why you were given the wrong body. I'm sorry you've never been so under pressure to fit society's mold of what you're supposed to be that you couldn't be yourself for your entire life. I'm sorry you never had to tell your family on national TV that you were going to transition into a woman and hope that they still accept you as their family member. I'm sorry you've never been in the public eye, forced to listen to the scrutiny because of your choices. I'm sorry you've never made the decision to be truly happy, only to receive backlash from millions of people who don't understand you. I'm sorry you've never been anything besides exactly what society says you should be. Because you've never had to do any of these things, you now cannot understand why Caitlyn Jenner deserves an award.

You can't see how her choice to be her true self in front of the entire world is courageous. You can't see her as a role model because you don't understand those that look up to her. You can't agree that she should be a woman of the year because she didn't get to be a woman for her first 65 years on Earth.

However, your persecution only makes her more deserving. She walks with her head high, even when you try with everything you're made of to beat her down. She stands by her decision to show her true colors, even when you disagree. She is a voice for all who struggle with their identity, even when you try to keep her quiet.

I did some research for you, to at least try to help you understand. Almost half of the world's transgender population attempts suicide. That's 41% of people who attempt to live their life the way they feel it was meant to be lived, and then attempt to end their life because they are never accepted.

Society is an unacknowledged war zone. Acceptance is a luxury many never get the chance to enjoy.  Acceptance is the unspoken goal of virtually all humans. We strive to fit into the cookie cutter shapes that our own society has created. A man who provides, a woman who cares for her children, a man who is masculine, a woman who is feminine. The shapes are constantly changing and evolving. We now have strong women who do men's jobs and loving men who stay at home with the kids. But we are still, always trying to fit. When we don't fit, it's hard to gain acceptance. When we aren't accepted we feel alone. When we feel alone we crave affection. When we can't get any, we feel hopeless.

Caitlyn is someone who stands up for what they believe in. Someone who helps others who struggle to fit in to society. Someone who tolerates your ignorance in hopes that someday, people like her will finally be recognized as normal. She lives in a world full of people fighting against her, to fight for those who understand her.

I'm sorry that you can't see her as a hero. I'm sorry you can't agree that she deserves the award she received. I'm sorry you can't put her in the same category as a woman who saved lives over seas just because we can't put a number on the lives she has saved by telling them it's ok to be themselves.

I hope someday you have a change of heart. I hope someday, even if you don't have a  change of heart, that you don't feel it necessary to say unkind things about Caitlyn Jenner in an attempt to bring her down. I hope someday you can understand why she's awesome.

Sincerely,
Open Mind

Making 24 My Bitch

(Sorry mom).

I reread my first blog ever that I wrote almost one year ago and it's time to reflect. I was all about being 23. I had big plans for what that age would hold. College graduation was on the horizon, I was freshly dumped by a boyfriend, I had skeleton plans to go on a trip with my best friend, and I was stoked to just be blissfully lost and confused about life.

http://connectedtothemoon.blogspot.com/2014/12/so-we-just-write-down-our-feelings.html

(^for reference if interested in freshly 23 year old me)

24 is one week away, it's 5:22am on a Sunday. I'm physically, mentally, and emotionally drained. It's the perfect time to review 23 and spit some newly found wisdom on you Facebook friends of mine. Feel free to exit now.

Surprise, I graduated college. Top 5 best days of my life. I'm proud to have a degree and even more relieved that I never have to see another midterm ever again. Life can get quite boring without school, I must say. I've gone to school consistently since I was 3 years old. One year ago I was terrified of what these days would be like. Turns out they're pretty casual. I have free time! What is that? Word of advice to those that are almost to the end but feel like it will never come... It will. Full speed. Don't rush it. Don't dread it. Definitely don't give up. It seems impossible now but walking the stage is too rewarding and having a degree is too big of a prize to give up when you're almost finished. (Sisters, that means you).

I chopped off all my hair right before I turned 23, then I shaved the side of my head. Now I'm going on 24, rocking ponytails on the daily trying to survive this awkward length. Bobby pins are my best friend. Growing your hair out takes much longer than hacking it off. Patience is evidently a virtue. I wouldn't know.

I had barely breathed the words "let's go to Japan" one year ago. Surprise again! I made it happen. With many tears, a lot of giving up, a handful of fights with my bff, even more phone calls to my mom asking for advice, and one vodka bottle full of tip money later, I now have the most incredible memories of my trip to Japan under my belt and all over my Facebook feed. Seriously people, travel the world. It's worth more than any tangible thing you could ever own. I'm just getting started, but Thailand is on the calendar.

I got dumped at 23. I felt what a broken heart feels like. I felt loss. I felt like I would be alone forever. (Dramatic as always). Luckily, while still 23, I found someone new. I fell in love all over again. It's scary. 'Scary' is actually too rudimentary of a word to truly describe it. How do you open your heart to someone when you just finished piecing it back together? That I don't know the answer to. I'm still opening it, slowly but surely. It becomes easier when your other continually proves to be one half of your whole. He's the overthinker to my mindlessness. He's the planner to my flying by the seat of my pants. He's the voice of reason to my indecisiveness. He's the responsibility to my immaturity. He's the fun and carefree to my stress. He's the adventure to my stay at home and veg all day. He's perfectly opposite and the same all at once.

Is anyone gagging yet? See how much can change in a year? That paragraph above is so not like me, but so real, too.

I am the maid of honor in my best friend's wedding back home, coming up in just one short month. An engagement that was still non-existent one year ago. Planning a wedding is hard, people. I'll tell you what my most successful job has been through it all so far... Giving my opinion. Like damn I am good at not holding back. You're welcome, Lindsay for not letting you have anything ugly at your wedding and helping you make decisions when you couldn't quite get there. You're also welcome for cutting out 3 million mustaches.

All through 23 I contemplated the importance of keeping friends you don't necessarily want in your life anymore. 24 seems like a good year to reevaluate relationships and cut ties with those who don't constantly help you grow and improve as a person. What is a friendship if it's out of pure obligation anyway?  I also need to reevaluate the grudges I've been holding. There's nothing more unhealthy than a grudge, and I have many. Forgiving and letting go is something I'm still working on. 24, we got this.

Other small but big things that happened during 23: I got a bunny. She ran away. I moved. I bought my first car. I explored another Hawaiian island. I surprised my family for Christmas. I got like five new jobs. I fed a monkey. I swam with dolphins. I saw Incubus, Kings of Leon, Tech N9ne, and Chris D'elia live. I learned to never lend someone money with expectations to get it back. 

A year ago I was so content with where I was, who I was, and where I was going (which was nowhere). With 24 right around the corner, I am exceedingly anxious to make a change. To move forward. To grow up a tiny bit (not too much). A big girl job seems slightly more appealing the closer I get to what could be considered a 'big girl'. Making plans doesn't seem like such a bad idea. Saving money seems more important. My perspective is evolving daily.

23 was a roller coaster. I'm wild and I'm not sure if I'll ever calm down.

24 will, without a doubt, be an equally as windy, bumpy, crazy roller coaster as well. I'm not 100% ready to burry my immature, party, carefree self.

The difference between 23 and 24 for me is I had my hand on the e-brake all through 23, just in case. This year, I am welcoming whatever life has to offer me with open arms. Why resist what's meant to be? I'm going to make 24 my bitch, and then I'm going to reduce the amount of swearing I do in my blogs. (You're welcome, mom).

I'm ready to make moves. I'm more than ready to put 23 behind me.

Here's to yet another year of new beginnings, new adventures, new mistakes, and new memories.

Also, here's to a boring age that doesn't even have a song with "24"in it. I was on a roll the last two years with "22" and "23." Thanks T. Swift and Miley.

xo, Tay

When Life Hands You Lemons

Squeeze it in your vodka soda and drink up!

Seriously, this has been the longest week of my life, and it's only Wednesday.

Saturday night, I was laying on the beach at 2am, decompressing and destressing. I picked up 3 new jobs, moved into a new house, got into a new relationship, and completely ran out of 'me' time. A 2am beach sesh was completely necessary for my sanity. After watching huge bolts of lightning rip through the clouds over Oahu for 2 hours, I went back to my car and found myself standing in a pile of broken glass.

It took me a moment to register what was happening. I was looking through my passenger window at my open glove compartment. Only I wasn't looking through my window, I was standing on it shattered in the street. My open glove box was one wallet short. And after a few infinite seconds, I realized someone had busted my window and stole all my shit. Then I was raging.

Why did I leave my wallet in the car? Why was my $300 Marc Jacobs purse sitting out in plain sight? Why did I basically say, "hey desperate asshole, here's all my stuff, I'll be on the beach, be back later!"???? WHY WHY WHY. Why me? Why my car? Why now?

I've run out of "why" questions to ask myself. I've run out of "why" questions to ask the universe. And I've finally started seeing this situation for what it really is.

A test.

Universe, I'm going to crush this, hope you're paying close attention.

While I was busy crying over my lost possessions I failed to see how lucky I truly was. For some insane reason, I deposited almost $500 cash into my bank account that had been building up in my wallet the morning of my break in. I was in the grocery store that morning grabbing food for breakfast, already running late to meet new boyfriend who was waiting for these ingredients to feed me. My bank happened to be inside the store and I was feeling lazy and somewhat rushed so I thought to myself I would just leave and deposit my cash later. But something made me run up to the counter and just stick it in my account real quick anyway.

Then that night my wallet was stolen with only $50 inside it, rather than $500. Thank you to whatever force of nature pushed me to put my money in the bank.

Yes, it cost me $260 to replace my window. Yes, my favorite, most expensive purse that was a gift from my best friend is now gone. Yes, I had to go stand in line at the DMV to replace my license. Yes, I've been living off whatever cash I made this weekend because I had to cancel all of my debit cards. And yes, I am going to be okay. 

I already cried. I screamed at the top of my lungs. I complained for days about how frustrated I am that I have to deal with this, just as I was settling in and reveling in my own happiness. Bottom line, it sucks. It's a huge set back financially. It's an inconvenience to replace all my lost shit. I'm going to Japan in 3 weeks and I had to spend money on my car instead of save it for my trip. Ok I'll get to the point... vent sesh over.

It could have been worse. And I can handle this. I suppose I was so happy with life at the moment, it felt like one small negative thing was crushing me into a million pieces. The negative energy I was receiving was being put right back into the air around me with my constant complaining. It's been hanging over me like a dark rain cloud.

That brings me to my blog. My beloved online journal where I pour my heart out. The place I've been too busy to visit recently. The place I used to use to connect with my internet friends. I feel like I've shared a lot of negative stories and rants on my blog. Here's another for the books. But I'm truly trying to look at this one in a different light. 

The damn glass is half full, people. If you're looking at your own half empty glass, knock it off. Pull yourself up by the bootstraps. You know the clichés. 

A good friend told me to look at each situation on a whole timeline of your life from birth to death. Is my car being robbed a huge set back in my life timeline, or is it just a speed bump along the way? A few months from now I won't even hardly remember this happened. Definitely a speed bump. And me and my busted car are going to cruise right on over it.

I Like People From High School Better Now Than I Did In High School

Ten year reunions were once a time for old friends and classmates to gather from around the state, country, or even world. A time for old friends and classmates to show off their wives, show off their kids, lie about their jobs, lie about their divorces. Recently however, reunions have lost their glitz and glam. The generation before us has seemed to grow evermore disappointed in our dedication to stalking people's lives on the internet. What's the fun in going to your high school reunion if you already saw John Smith's wedding, pregnancy, child birth, and child's first 5 birthdays on Facebook?

Well maybe Facebook has taken the fun out of reunions. Maybe I already know who got married and who has kids and who works at a dead end job and who vacationed in Africa. I thought it was pretty un-fun at first to see everyone's lives unfolding before me on my computer screen. I thought it took the surprise out of my future reunion to already know what my graduating class was up to. (I think about my high school reunion because it means I'm getting older and we all know the mental breakdowns I have over that). But I learned something else about the lovely internet machine. Old classmates can quickly become new friends.

I've drifted apart from 90% of my friends from high school. I mean I live on a rock in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. That doesn't exactly scream "let's stay in touch." Facebook allowed me to like a status here and there, see where my old friends moved to, see everyone's big shiny engagement rings and chubby new babies. It also allowed me to see all the weird names my old classmates are coming up with for their offspring. They get weirder by the day. It's not a competition guys, your kid will never find a keychain with their name on it. Take it from someone who knows, that is devastating when you're 6.

My blog posts, however silly, serious, or stupid they may be, have gotten some unexpected praise from old high school mates. Profile pictures have earned likes from people I wasn't aware knew I existed. Let's be real, I didn't consider myself exactly "popular" in high school. I like to think my decently cool place of residence has earned me the few extra eyes on my Facebook page. For whatever reason though, I've befriended (in the best way you can through nothing but a computer) some people I've known for over ten years but never really knew. 

Through a hilarious status about their job as a server I can see how I missed out on a great sense of humor back then. (I can also relate to the nightmares of the service industry). Through a status about the stresses of final exams I can see that I am not alone in pulling my hair out with worry and probably never was. And with a comment or two exchanged on these amusing Facebook statuses I begin to see someone I could probably be great friends with had I not moved so far away. In high school, we all found our cliques. That's not to say I didn't chat with these people in class or say hi at football games or drink with them at house parties. But I never really knew them for who they were. And it's probably a good thing we didn't truly know who each other was in high school because I was a strange person when I was 16. Just all around weird and immature (as we all were), striving to fit in any possible way I could.

Now I can look into these people's adult lives. See how we have grown to be similar without ever speaking. See how those I was closest to have grown to be so different than me. My views and beliefs have changed so much since entering my 20s. They are at the far end of the spectrum from some of my best friends even. To see people I barely know anymore reach out to me and tell me they feel the same, tell me they had a wedding dress that showed all their tattoos, tell me they are moving away from their home of 20+ years too, tell me they are clueless about what to do with their college degree like me. For lack of a better term, that's cool.

People I assumed to have barely graduated high school are now chemistry majors or in nursing school or graduating with an engineering degree. (See what happens when you assume? Sorry guys). People I thought would be stuck in their high school days, reliving their peak years until the end of time, are happily married to the love of their lives, in the best shape of their lives, or working at the career of their dreams. I mean can I just stop judging and assuming now? I'm clearly way off. Facebook is a place full of inspiration. It's full of advice. It's full of people who know how we feel. It's full of old friends who, in the simplest way, can become new friends. 

I've learned to appreciate Facebook for all of its perks. I was able to raise money for a friend in need through it, as others are currently doing too. I learned that I might be decent at writing and that people enjoy reading what I have to say. I learned that 100 'Happy Birthday' posts can actually feel pretty good. So no, I won't be very surprised to hear all the last name changes at my high school reunion. I won't even be surprised to see some of my old teachers because I'm friends with them on Facebook too. I'll already know how old everyone's kids are. I'll already know who's a nurse and who's divorced and who's no longer living in Arizona. 

Guess what parents. We're going to come together and hangout with our Facebook friends in the flesh. We're going to hug people we could only virtually touch before. We're going to show up, ready to face our old classmates as an open book. Can't lie about your fake fancy job when I already saw its nonexistence on the internet. Our reunions will be honest. They will be different. They are just like everything else of our generation. They are progressing. Old traditions are fun but you have to spice them up sometime. Change is not the end of the world. Facebook is not the end of the world either.

I appreciate the tiny friendships I've made through Facebook. I love the quirky comments on my statuses and the countless people who ask how Hawaii is and when they can come visit. We may not have wreaked havoc on Mountain Ridge High School together but we can laugh about our shitty jobs and cry about our final exams together now and still feel like we're kind of actually friends.

Maybe if I keep going at the rate I am now I'll be able to find a date to my best friend's wedding through the internet too.

Thanks Facebook friends for reading, liking, and supporting my silly blogs. You keep it alive.

xo Tatum