That Gave Me Pause.

Google searching "Skinny Ties" takes one to mostly rockabilly, vintage websites selling various sizes, colors, designs... it can get overwhelming when you're looking for a specific person.

I searched and searched, not sure exactly what for, until I found it. A one-of-a-kind navy, textured skinny tie with a small, silver shooting star.

I remember you wore it beaming with pride, every time, that I bought it for you-- that not only did the color compliment your soft blue eyes, but the star symbolized me with you. (You were one who actually understood my love of stars). Plus, you looked hip wearing it.

We were so cool.

I'd like to think my presents to you haven't gone in vain. But I wouldn't know. I haven't seen you in over two years... but one of the last times I did was a couple months after I moved to Hoboken. We went to see Mission of Burma as part of Williamsburg's free Waterfront concerts, ate some vegan Asian food, you came visit me and my new apartment but slept on the couch, of course.

In the midst of packing the last three years of my life, gearing up to move to Brooklyn, I found that perfect skinny tie hanging on a side hook in my closet.

What was it doing here? Why did I have it? Did you leave it here by mistake? Did you realize it wasn't with you anymore? Would you still wear it?

I held that skinny tie in my hands and outlined the star with my finger. Despite being worlds away, I am not sure if I'll ever get used to this. Us not being us. Us not being friends. Not having someone understand why I really love stars.

Discovering Awkward.

First impressions are crucial. In fact, if you think just how crucial it can make one a little nutty, no? 

Like all my life experiences, intelligence, and personality will boil down to the first ten minutes. Try as I might, any impression I made at you will always come back to those tedious minutes.

I don't remember when, I don't remember why, but within the last couple years a good friend of mine said I was "awkward." It wasn't meant as a mean statement, but simply, just that-- a statement. At first, I was taken back, could I really be socially inept? I always referred to myself as friendly -- and sure, insecure -- but never awkward.

Other people were awkward, I could point them out in a crowd. Did I have some weird tendencies or say strange things that made people uncomfortable? I guess sometimes I do share unnecessary or boring information. Maybe people think I say too much and it's difficult for me to distinguish a professional versus private self.

Factor in a pimple, weight gain, bad hair day... my high-pitched voice, horrible slouch... an endless list of nerves and doubts building until I convinced myself, I am awkward. I am a nerd, a bookworm, a drunk, a lame girl who lost her apartment, makes little to no money, and is stuck in an overgrown adolescent, awkward phrase.

I feel like a festering sore people just stare at, wondering how it got so bad. Insecurities eat me from the inside, my anxiety boils over, and I need to tell them I am awkward to perhaps, give relief (to me?) from the expectations and first impressions.

Now, I don't know if I actually was "awkward" when my friend told me years ago. But I sure as hell am now.