These pictures are blurry and pixelated and scream, “selfie with a flipped iPhone camera,” but I can’t help it, they deserved their own post.
So much love in two photos.
I want to remember this night, standing in line for UCB amongst the smoking hipsters with their ironic Stanford sweatshirts. I want to remember the celebrity Scientology building across the street and the oddly pulsating light from the top room. (How alarmed, exactly, should we have been?)
I want to remember Caitlin’s “you can’t sit with us” shirt and my floral mini dress and Caitlin saying, “Of course they’ll hire you, they’ll take one look at you and DONE” and how I laughed and sashayed my dress .
I want to remember The Yeti.
I always remember The Yeti, never mind.
Caitlin and I were a set up friendship, as weird as that sounds. I’ve never had another one, and kind of hope I never do. Kit Kat was enough, thank you very much.
(Just as I am Mary in About Time, Caitlin is so very Kit Kat, in all the best, barefoot partying ways.)
My friend Mindy knew Cait from college and when I announced I was going to Pepperdine Mindy did the, “Hey I have a friend going there” thing and then a FB friendship was started that turned to a texting friendship that turned to a roommate BFFship. From the get-go I realized that this girl was interesting, and I adore interesting.
Friendship stories, why don’t we tell them more often?
Why do we only tell romantic relationship stories?
In the past two years, Cait has been so many things to me. She’s been my Sunday drive companion, an equal in Adele duets. She’s been the Cosette to my Eponine. The Javert to my Valjean. The Kanye to my Jay-Z.
She’s hugged me while I sobbed and told me, “Listen, I can’t do this anymore. If you want to continue this relationship with him, you will have to stop telling me about it. I can’t watch you do this to yourself.”
I am grateful for that.
And then she’s listened to me anyway when I made the same mistake again and again.
I am even more grateful for that.
I’ve learned a great many things from Caitlin, as you do with those so different from yourself. Sometimes people who spend time with both of us comment on how similar we are, and I kind of look at them funny. We have a rhythm as friends that Cait likes to call “double dutch jump roping,” but we are so very, very different.
In one, very odd, very sleep-medicine fueled Google Hangout, I ended up post midnight chatting with Caitlin and a boy she had once dated. We talked about the things we liked best in each other and this boy, whom I still don’t know very well said, “You have Caitlin’s back. Just talking to you, I can tell you are in her corner.”
He was right.
She has mine, too.
There is something so very valuable about a true friendship. I know my family loves me and I love them dearly, but it’s different. I was born and therefore they love. Friends who choose to love me when they most certainly do not have to? What a privilege.
What a beautiful privilege.
Caitlin has taught me that the best remedy for life is to dance more. She’s taught me that pants are never necessary, and compression hugs heal most wounds. She’s woken me up singing “I’m going to find another you” and left class to get In-N-Out with me in emotional emergency, and offered me her pillow when my anxiety was so great I wasn’t sleeping. When I text her “I’m moody as hell” she just says, “Good, you’re back to normal.”
I don’t know if these things can be conveyed in a single picture, or in two pictures, or in a lifetime of photos, but these blurry, pixelated selfies with a flipped iPhone camera come about as close as I’ve seen.
So much love in two photos.
So much love.