don't change your plans for me; i won't move to l.a.
November 02, 2003, 9:23 pm

Halloween brought many screams (me in the Zombie play), much laughter (me, during the Zombie play), and many, many tears (me, handing over the scrapbooks to Zak and Mike that I'd worked on for months, only to have them not be finished yet in time for the group's trek out west). My costume of Queen Bee was not all that exciting; the night was, though. Not only was EVERYONE there, but everyone was dressed up and looked as creative and silly as I've come to expect my friends to get. Everyone from Jamie and Jen's SPOT ON Ned and Maude Flanders costumes to S-M-R's terrifying zombie, it was incredible to see a bunch of post-collegiate adults sharing in the Halloween cheer.

Zak, S-M-R, and I acted in the hit of the evening, The Zombie Play. Dear God, it was amazing. I kept forgetting my lines because Zak just lost it and then I lost it and there we were, trying to be serious about being chased by a tragically slow and easily distracted zombie, but whenever we concentrated long enough on S-M-R to hear him snorting and making zombie-like noises, we just lost it again. I was happy that I got a few laughs, and I was so lucky that Mike wrote the part for me, and that I got to act with Zak one last time.

I don't know if it was the Indian Summer like heat or the fact that my little antennae bounced all over my head, but the ghouls and ghosts of the evening let my own ghosts of nostalgia appear, and I revelled in it for a little while and cried myself all the way to Dave's apartment.

On Saturday, Dave and I created the greatest Halloween costumes EVER for a post-Halloween costume party at his sister Kate's boyfriend Steve's house. We would be: THE HARBINGERS OF THE HOUSEHOLD! Enter Dave: mild-mannered tech support temp by day, CAPTAIN LIVINGROOM by night! Wielding a remote control and his coasters of justice, he battles unsightly rings on coffeetables and insures that EVERYONE is pleased with the choice of channel! Ah, but he is aided in his dwelling adventures by ME! The Bathroom Avenger! Armed with my shower curtain cape, sponge-slippers and wristbands, and utility of cleaning supplies, I am a force to be reckoned with for all scum: soap or otherwise! Behold my shiny shower curtain rings of goodness!

Yeah, so Dave and I went to Target and I got REALLY carried away with the bathroom aisle. By the time we went to the party, I was clad in a shower curtain, a bathtowel, a belt with toilet brush, toilet paper, and latex gloves hanging off it, and way too many Q-tips and shower rings in my hair. Dave had an armchair armrest cover on his head and a blanket tied around his neck. He insisted upon haranguing people with coasters when they didn't use one on the basement table. Man, did we have a great time.

So much so of a great time, that I drank, and drank, and drank deathly Hurricane punch while defending the Beer Pong Champion title with Kate; we won six games in a row until Steve and his buddy Kurt usurped us (it didn't really matter, as we couldn't exactly see at that point). The result of all my debauchery? A unfulfilled crush on Steve's toga-wearing roommate Todd, a bum knee compliments of doing the twisty-turny version of the electric slide, and a steaming pile of puke outside of Dave's apartment when going home. Gross.

I called Mike's cell phone to wish him well on his journey with Zak, Shea, Paul, and Liz to L.A. He left a box of crap in my car and I didn't get it to him. I was supposed to see them off, but I was sleeping off my hangover instead.

I can't, in any form or fashion, describe what those guys mean to me. I'm excited for them, and I'm jealous of them, and I'm aching for them to call me and tell me that they miss me, too. I can't help but be more than a little sad that Mike told Natbrat that my line in his movie was the part that reminded me of her; I'm sorry I didn't get a goodbye email or whatever else everyone else did. I'm scared...I'm scared...I'm SCARED because I think my number one fear will transcend any bond that I think I may have with them, and that's being forgotten...

I know I'm overreacting. Forgive me, my pretentiousness happens to coincide and build off my inate tendency to NEED to be the center of attention.

I just want to mean as much to them as they mean to me, is that so bad? Really?

I can't put into words what I want to tell them, but S-M-R did a damn fine job telling them what everyone wants to express when saying "Good Luck" and "Don't Change" and "Be Yourself" and "Goodbye."

They're going...they've gone. They're moving on and reaching what they're supposed to do by getting into a packed-to-the-roof truck and everyone's separate cars and almost hitting Tennessee by now. I'm sitting in my parents' house wondering when and if I'll get the courage to do the same thing before it's too late.

Good luck in California, my friends, my loves, my past; I'm a better person for having known you and for having grown up with you (not to mention having had sex with some of you). I miss you already.