100 bad days made 100 good stories
100 good stories make me interesting at parties
- AJR
Tips for Finding Happiness in Your Daily Life
12 years ago
Wednesday, December 04, 2019
Monday, December 02, 2019
Losing Footing
Last year between spring and summer, I joined three groups RJ and I jokingly call cults.
You'd think I would have made a ton of friends by now. No.
Over Thanksgiving weekend, we were invited to Amelia's shindig to "inaugurate" her new wine room. I'd been psyched looking forward to it.
Instead of the intimate family reunion I'd dreamt it to be, there were friends and friends of friends. About 11 years ago, with a little social lubricant, I could get by such a night more than fine. On this night, though, I certainly did not thrive.
If ever there was any doubt I really was an introvert, I was true blue proven yet again. Classic introvert for ya.
There is just something with the dynamic in larger groups that just makes me wanna hide.
"And I wonder why I don't have friends," I thought.
Fast forward to this morning, when I learned through social media that my "sponsor" in one of my cults, Martine*, was moving away. I felt many emotions well up: shock, sadness, disappointment, betrayal. Yes, betrayal. She didn't even tell me she was leaving.
Given, we weren't exactly "friends". We'd had a couple of workshops. OK, three. She's two decades my junior. Even though we share the same first language, and, yes, we are in the same cult. That's hardly a valid BFF basis.
Then I realized my abandonment knee-jerk reaction was still there. After all these years. Will it ever be gone?
The news was such a blow, I was surprised. I was actually tearing up. Over someone I'd only met three times. In a group.
Not like she's been on my mind otherwise, either. But it matters little. How dare she leave me behind?
Those little thinking patterns are awful, how, like grooves in a record, they don't change. But you can change the record, they say.
I am now tired just having mulled over this whole self diagnosis.
*Not her real name
You'd think I would have made a ton of friends by now. No.
Over Thanksgiving weekend, we were invited to Amelia's shindig to "inaugurate" her new wine room. I'd been psyched looking forward to it.
Instead of the intimate family reunion I'd dreamt it to be, there were friends and friends of friends. About 11 years ago, with a little social lubricant, I could get by such a night more than fine. On this night, though, I certainly did not thrive.
If ever there was any doubt I really was an introvert, I was true blue proven yet again. Classic introvert for ya.
There is just something with the dynamic in larger groups that just makes me wanna hide.
"And I wonder why I don't have friends," I thought.
Fast forward to this morning, when I learned through social media that my "sponsor" in one of my cults, Martine*, was moving away. I felt many emotions well up: shock, sadness, disappointment, betrayal. Yes, betrayal. She didn't even tell me she was leaving.
Given, we weren't exactly "friends". We'd had a couple of workshops. OK, three. She's two decades my junior. Even though we share the same first language, and, yes, we are in the same cult. That's hardly a valid BFF basis.
Then I realized my abandonment knee-jerk reaction was still there. After all these years. Will it ever be gone?
The news was such a blow, I was surprised. I was actually tearing up. Over someone I'd only met three times. In a group.
Not like she's been on my mind otherwise, either. But it matters little. How dare she leave me behind?
Those little thinking patterns are awful, how, like grooves in a record, they don't change. But you can change the record, they say.
I am now tired just having mulled over this whole self diagnosis.
*Not her real name
Quote 274
I drove by your house
but you don't live there anymore.
- "I Really Wish I Hated You", Blink-182
but you don't live there anymore.
- "I Really Wish I Hated You", Blink-182
Friday, November 29, 2019
Vermeil 2
About three weeks ago I was at the TJ's near work again, and Kelsey happened to ring me up. As I approached his cash register, I saw that he looked up and seemed to recognize me. He even smiled. Not a fake smile, the kind you flash to be polite, but like he was happy to see a familiar face.
The kindergartener in me took over. Remember kindergarten? If you liked someone and you wanted them to be your friend (heck, in your mind you may already be friends), you just talked to them. There was no embarrassment or self-consciousness, or fear of "coming on too strong", or being misread as coming on to them. You felt, you did.
And the following discourse was a pure exchange as such. We almost simultaneously brought up Oxtails, the local produce market now defunct. I got to say the phrase I'd been rehearsing in my head, "Hey... there's life after Oxtails!" I expressed regret that the market was no longer. Kelsey was in accord.
That was the best scenario, however brief. Better than I could have imagined. No awkwardness. No lingering too long. Just two strangers having a common thread, no ulterior motives, no wants or needs from the other but an adulterated moment of innocent connection, goodwill, and a semblance of kinship.
These moments are few and far between.
And that was the last time I saw Kelsey. I've been back a couple of times since, and no sight of Kelsey. He may not work there anymore. Who knows?
Wherever he is, I hope he is well.
The kindergartener in me took over. Remember kindergarten? If you liked someone and you wanted them to be your friend (heck, in your mind you may already be friends), you just talked to them. There was no embarrassment or self-consciousness, or fear of "coming on too strong", or being misread as coming on to them. You felt, you did.
And the following discourse was a pure exchange as such. We almost simultaneously brought up Oxtails, the local produce market now defunct. I got to say the phrase I'd been rehearsing in my head, "Hey... there's life after Oxtails!" I expressed regret that the market was no longer. Kelsey was in accord.
That was the best scenario, however brief. Better than I could have imagined. No awkwardness. No lingering too long. Just two strangers having a common thread, no ulterior motives, no wants or needs from the other but an adulterated moment of innocent connection, goodwill, and a semblance of kinship.
These moments are few and far between.
And that was the last time I saw Kelsey. I've been back a couple of times since, and no sight of Kelsey. He may not work there anymore. Who knows?
Wherever he is, I hope he is well.
Sunday, November 03, 2019
Sunday, October 27, 2019
Vignette 30
Last night RJ and I walked by a restaurant that called itself a "Mexican bistro".
RJ pointed at the sign and I knew exactly what he was conveying. I replied:
That's like saying there is such a thing as a French cantina.
To which RJ chuckled.
It is not easy to make RJ chuckle. To me it's like winning a prize.
RJ pointed at the sign and I knew exactly what he was conveying. I replied:
That's like saying there is such a thing as a French cantina.
To which RJ chuckled.
It is not easy to make RJ chuckle. To me it's like winning a prize.
Sunday, October 20, 2019
Quote 272
They tried to bury us.
They didn't know we were seeds.
- Mexican proverb (originally by Greek poet Dinos Christianopoulos)
They didn't know we were seeds.
- Mexican proverb (originally by Greek poet Dinos Christianopoulos)
