The Frenemy of My Frenemy is Probably Also My Frenemy (#NaBloPoMo Day 15)

I’ve been blogging every day for two weeks straight, which means we’re on to Day 15 of NaBloPoMo.  Today’s theme is Frenemy, that devious portmanteau.  

As I’ve said before, I’m kind of a jealous person.  So it probably goes without saying that I’m prone to frenemies.  You know, friends that are also enemies?  My most memorable frenemy was a girl named Jackie.  Is it me, or are they always named Jackie? (No offense if that’s your name.  It just means you are stunning and perfect and I’m jealous of you).

Jackie and I met in law school.  I was unbelievably threatened by her because she was basically the upgraded version of me.  A more brunette brunette, with bluer blue eyes, and whiter white teeth.  Thinner than I was, but not so thin that it didn’t look good.  A runner like me, but she ran farther and faster.  She was smart, she was funny, she could sing.  And socially, way less awkward than me.  Honestly, I don’t even know why she was friends with me.  Deep down, ugh, I just kind of wanted Jackie to fail at things a little bit.  Nothing serious, of course, maybe she could just gain 20-30 pounds and develop some acne?

After law school, Jackie and I both joined the same law firm.  Needless to say, she was a pretty big hit.  One day, she got drunk at a recruiting event and accidentally replied-all on her blackberry to a firm-wide email, sending a “$” in response to a message about our recent deals and cases.  Everyone thought it was adorable.  Classic Jackie.

And while we were working in New York together, Jackie got into the NYC Marathon through the lottery system.  And when she crossed the finish line, she threw her hands in the air and flashed her toothpaste-ad-worthy pearly whites.  I know this because her picture ended up on the cover of the online edition of the New York Times.  Classic Jackie.

We don’t talk or see each other much anymore, but I still find myself jealous of Jackie all the time.  Is that pathetic or what?  It doesn’t help that her Instagram game is on point. Like, can you please stop traveling to Iceland and Zimbabwe so I can be satisfied with my life?

Therein lies the problem with frenemies, at least for me.  It can’t be healthy to get so worked up about what someone else has, especially when what you have is pretty freaking good.  I’m 32 now, it might be time to learn how to be happy with myself, my life, my choices.  Honestly, who cares if my friends are running marathons and starting charities in Africa.

Until next time,


#NaBloPoMo Day 9: A Tale of Two High Schools

We’re 9 days into NaBloPoMo already, wow!  Today’s theme is High School, because who doesn’t want to relive those glory days?

What is the one thing you’ve done that you are most proud of? You know, excluding marriage and kids and all that obligatory stuff?

I think my proudest moment came in high school.  I started off attending my local public school in my home state in the American southwest.  And I hated it.  There was this girl, Katie, who I was friends with already through extracurricular soccer.  She was pretty much the only person I knew when I showed up Day 1 of Freshman year, so I think we became better friends than we should have been.  She introduced me to these two other girls, and we became this little alternative clique.  You know, dark eye make-up, wanna-be skater clothes, ditching class, drinking on the weekends.

And I was so uncomfortable, because that wasn’t me.  But how do you switch social groups in high school?  I felt really stuck, and I was depressed because I just wasn’t having the high school experience that I wanted.

So I did something drastic.  Junior year, I enrolled in a prep boarding school in New England.  I picked myself up and moved clear across the country; away from my parents, my siblings, my friends, every one and everything I ever knew, all because I really wanted to start over.

And it was everything I wanted it to be.  I took full advantage of the opportunity:  I made the varsity soccer team, joined the a capella group, and even auditioned for the hand-bell choir! (But I didn’t actually join the hand-bell choir because that’s social suicide.)


Even though I was the weird new Junior from really far away, other students welcomed me with open arms, and I made a really nice group of diverse friends.  I won’t go so far as to say I was majorly popular, because that would be a bold-faced lie.  But I never felt lonely or dissatisfied with the people I surrounded myself with.

I also really loved living in New England.  It was a welcome change from the desert where I grew up, even if I didn’t know how to dress for the cold.  (Flip flops in the snow, anyone?)

Of course, moving across the country came at a high cost.  Quite literally, because boarding school was not cheap.  I have to acknowledge how incredibly lucky I was to be able to take advantage of the opportunity.  It was certainly a financial stretch for my parents to send me for those two years, but they made it work so I could realize my dream.  Beyond the financial cost, the move was also emotionally taxing: I missed my family A LOT.  But I absolutely do not regret doing it, and I am still so proud of myself for taking control of my life when it wasn’t going my way.  I think that’s a pretty bad-assed thing for a 15-year-old to do.

Until next time,