• the217
• Blogs
• Triple Entendre
• You Are My Own Personal Regina Spektor

• RSS

You Are My Own Personal Regina Spektor

posted by mzemait2 at 11:56 am.

• Bookmark & Share
• Comments (4)

My graduation party was this weekend. My closest friends and family gathered in my tiny ranch-style house in the forgettable suburb of Oak Forest, IL, to celebrate my unemployment with sangria and Italian sausage. Overall, the party was a success — My mother told me before the party that she bought the most beer she’d ever bought for a family party. The next day there wasn’t a single bottle left. Obviously, my mother had never been to a party with my alky friends before. I also took my friends on a field trip to Oak Fest, our town’s annual carnival and collection of the best in suburban white trash. As we waited in line for the Tilt-a-whirl, a future burn-out (aka, a 12-year-old boy from Oak Forest) made lewd gestures at my friends as he spun towards us.

Then he threw up. It’s times like this when I think God might exist.

In the midst of all this good, semi-clean fun, a small bit of drama arose, as it tends to in my circle of friends. My friend Alyssa was taking a train to Oak Forest from Chicago, and she called me for directions to my house. Luckily my friends Trendy and Paul had just arrived, so they willingly accepted my request that they go pick up Alyssa at the station.

“Do you guys need her number, in case you can’t find her?”

“Naaaaw, she’ll be easy to spot.”

Ten minutes later, Trendy calls me.

“Ok, I need her number, we can’t find her.”

A second glass of strong sangria later, I get a call from Alyssa.

“So, I’m in Oak…Park.” Which happens to be on the completely opposite side of Chicago. Which happens to be a town that just a few days earlier I was telling Alyssa that people always confuse Oak Forest with.

After a bit of discussion amongst my friends (and laughing…a lot of laughing…and teasing…so much teasing…), Alyssa decided to take the El to the city, hop over to the LaSalle Street Station and catch the 6:45 train to Oak Forest. She took the Green Line, survived a crazy cab drive, and ran as fast as her cigarette-smoke filled lungs would allow her to without exploding, and got to the train station. Just as the train was pulling away.

And she was holding sunflowers the entire time. Her graduation present to me. Throughout that entire debacle, she didn’t let go of those damn sunflowers. A girl sitting all her lonesome on a curb in Oak Park. A girl riding the El, and nervously checking her watch. A girl sprinting towards the Metra. All while carrying giant, bright flowers to delightfully contrast with her current situation. My friend Ryan, who also happens to be one of the most helpful and selfless people I know, volunteered to pick her up so she wouldn’t have to wait 2 hours for the next train. When they pulled into my driveway at 9 pm, Alyssa jumped out of the car, and sure enough, she was still holding onto those sunflowers.

I reciprocated by giving her a Bud Light.

My mind is blown that Alyssa would go to all of this trouble just to eat microwaved rigatoni at my house. Especially when I think of how our friendship started. A few years ago, I hated Alyssa, for no rational or logical reason besides the fact that I’m a douche bag deluxe sandwich with a side of lame fries. She was in a class with me, and I thought she was overbearing and talked too much. She just rubbed me the wrong way. She later tried out for a play festival that my theater troupe was producing, which included a play I had written. She walked into the audition and I thought “Oh great, that bitch from my Women’s Studies class.” Then, in another moment that makes me consider God’s existence, she gave a fantastic-i-dare-you-not-to-cast-me audition, and I thought “Oh, fuck, she’s a great actress. Goddamit, I’m gonna have to hang out with her now. GAH!” For the next few months, we would interact at cast parties and happy hours, with her completely unaware that I disliked her. She thought I didn’t talk much because I was shy. In reality, I didn’t talk much because I thought she was going to be a manipulative bitch who would hurt my friends. Potato, patata.

Then a miraculous thing happened. I began to realize that my first impression was completely wrong. Behind that studded leather jacket of hers beats a heart made of marshmallows and sleepy puppies. Over time, I saw her for what she is was: An honest, open, loving gal (who talks a lot in her discussion sections).

We’re close … VERY … close.

Isn’t it wonderful when people smash your negative expectations of them and prove you wrong? Realizing that Alyssa was actually pretty cool felt like when you discover your new favorite band and can’t believe you haven’t listened to them before. I’d say it was the equivalent of when I saw Regina Spektor in concert and realized she was more than just a weird Russian with a piano. I’m glad I was so irrationally judgmental of her, because I honestly don’t think we’d appreciate each other as much as we do now. Our friendship seems like an accomplishment, having overcome my douchebaggery. And she has made me a better person. After completely misjudging her, I’ve noticed that I’m more likely to give other people I meet a chance for a second impression. And I think people in general should do this more often. Granted, some might turn out to be, in fact, manipulative bitches, but I think it’s worth it to find the true surprises.

From now on, true friendship will always make me think of a girl running frantically towards a train with wilting sunflowers.

damn straight.

Mary Zemaitis: I enjoy comedy. And entendres. Sometimes, Triple Entendres.