Back and Redder Than Ever

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You know it’s a good vacation when you leave in black and white and return in color. I mean look at those tan lines. And when do I ever wear red???

Yes, Fire Island, NY was a great time and a MUCH needed break.  People made fun of me for leaving the Pacific Ocean and flying to the Atlantic but they mock what they don’t understand. I was carefree and barefoot for 19 days. My feet are so calloused I take off my socks and it sounds like I’m wearing tap shoes. If you know a Riverdance scout send them my way.

Thank you Alisha for blah-gging while I was gone. She wrote two ah-mazing posts; one on her (very attractive and talented) clique and one on Kristen Stewart’s canoodle. Unfortunately she couldn’t post them here (password issues) so she posted them on my Facebook page TheLisiHarrison. I hope you got to read them because they were both genius. If not head there as soon as you finish this…

So there I was at a friend’s house on Fire Island. She was having a cocktail party. In other words, she dumped a bag of Pop Chips into a bowl, ordered a pizza, and told us to help ourselves to whatever we wanted from the fridge. No one thought a thing of it. You see all of the guests were from Manhattan. They, like me before I moved to California, aren’t used to inviting people over for dinner parties or brunches or…anything. They (like me B.C.) live in small apartments. Even my friend who worked for Martha Stewart for 5 years can’t cook.  That’s part of being a New Yorker. When you live in NYC you hire people to do everything for you because you don’t have the space to do it yourself.

Cabs drivers drive you. Restaurants feed you. Delivery guys deliver in 15 minutes–30 if there’s a blinding snowstorm. Laundromats wash and fold your clothes. Dog walkers move your pets. Doormen open your doors. Trash chutes funnel your garbage into the basement of your building and you never have to see it again (unless there’s a strike).

The point is people in NYC are conditioned to rely on others to keep their lives moving.  I was one of those people for 15 years. Before that my parents took care of me. My job was to write and stay out of jail. That was it. That was my contribution to society. For everything else, there was Master Card.

Then, in 2007, I moved to California.  I had never felt more useless in my life. People here cook. They drive cars. They even parallel park them. They take out their own trash. They decorate their houses for the holidays which means they have ladders and tools and tape. AND NO ONE DELIVERS!!!!!!!!

I’m telling you I was a mess. It took years before I was able to stop apologizing to people who came to my house expecting a meal. Years before friends would let me drive. Years before I figured out where to buy a ladder. And it will be a few years more before I actually buy one. But to my old NYC friends, I have truly blossomed.

When they came to our Fire Island house we grilled salmon and steak. Fine, Kevy my life-crush grilled but I made salad and appetizers and I had the drinks all set up and ready to go. None of that “help-yourself” business. If Fire Island allowed cars I would have been the driver. I even swam in the ocean when the waves were big. Granted, I used to be the queen of fashion and now, according to them, I am the court jester. I have traded heels for Havianas. And they can’t seem to let that one go.

I have changed over the last five years and going back East made that clear.  Writing and staying out of jail are still my best skills. But I have grown and adapted. I never thought I’d know more about the road than the runway and yet, I do. And that’s what keeps life exciting. Stepping out of your comfort zone, being really bad at something, and then realizing that you’re not as bad as you used to be.

For those of you leaving for college, switching schools, or entering a new grade do it with your eyes wide open. Dabble, experiment, be afraid, and embrace failure. Laugh at your mistakes and celebrate your successes. Just don’t forget who you are. That’s the one thing you can’t lose sight of. The rest of life is like hair–the more you cut into it the faster it grows. So have at it.

TTYW,

Lisi