I am grouchy. And grumpy. I'm in a funk...a mood...a good old fashioned wallow. Do you ever wonder if any of your relationships are real? I was (finally) watching my back episodes of Boston Legal tonight, and I watched the one where my boyfriend James Spader almost gets killed and is surprised to find out that people love him and would miss him if he was gone. It just makes you think about whether or not you're making a difference in the world. For instance, there is a student organization that I am the president of, and it means a lot to me, and I work very, very hard trying to make good things happen. And no one returns my emails. Should I just quit? Do people actually just not care about the difference you try to make for them? And this whole blogging thing...I mean...why the hell do I spend a couple of hours a day pouring my heart out to virtual strangers on the internet, who, as it turns out, probably know me better than most of the people in my life...the answer is, because (in my own mind) you (presumably) take the time to read (most of) what I write. That's more than I can say for many of the people I see in school every day who can't even remember simple details about my life I've told them 87 times. This is totally not directed at the people who are my good friends, I *hope* that you know who you are...but sometimes it's so tiring to feel like you constantly have to try and reach out over and over again to people and try to form decent friendships when it seems like they could pretty much take you or leave you. In general, I feel conflicted...I hate always being the person to pursue friendships and always trying to keep in touch and make plans...but I hate not feeling like I have people I can count on when I need them, so in order to have that security (or false security) I have to pursue friendships which then leaves me feeling like I am putting forth a lot of effort for people who don't really care much for me or about me (once again, totally not directed at anyone in my immediate circle of friends).
I grew up all over the world, and way before email and blogs...and so I didn't keep up much with the people I knew over the years. I went to four high schools. I moved about 15 times before college, and another 7 or 8 times since. And I can honestly say the only long-term friend I have is M...I mean, I hear from a couple of others once in a while, but they are mostly all military brats too and they're spread out all over the place. Everyone from my past has just sort of disappeared. I feel sad when I come "home" to this city that I wasn't raised in, where I don't know anyone but my Mom and Dad, where I didn't go to school, or learn to drive, or get married...and there's no one here I know. But I feel sad when I go to my other "home" too...in a city I decided to move to in order to attend law school because it was close to my parents, where I don't know anyone except the few good friends I've made at school, where I have no past, no history, and probably no future since I have no ties and so don't feel compelled to stay there. In one sense, it's very freeing to feel like after law school I can go anywhere I want if I find the right job (if I can convince anyone to hire me without "ties" to their area), but in another sense it makes me wonder if anyone will even notice when I move away. Everyone will graduate, get married and/or have babies and/or get great wonderful jobs, and just ease into the next stage of their lives and I *know* that I will still feel compelled to keep up with them, and to write, and I'll truly want to hear about their lives and their husbands and wives and babies and jobs. But, somehow, I know that if I didn't make the effort to keep up with them, they wouldn't keep in touch with me.
I don't know where I was going with this post. It's very whiny and so I apologize. I've been feeling a real struggle lately with balancing who I want to be with who other people want me to be. It seems like the less I want to fit into a fixed category or mold, the more uncomfortable people are. And so they do the strangest thing. They put me into whatever category is comfortable for them, and then treat me that way regardless of what I'm actually like. I don't know what I'm trying to say...I wish I was a better writer and more articulate, because in my mind this is all rolling around and it at least *kind of* makes sense...not that you can tell from reading the last couple of paragraphs.
People don't get me. Maybe that's the whole crux of my angst. I am officially Holden from The Good Girl. I'm too intensified for everyone...that must be it. Damnit. I wanted to be deeper than that.
It's late. I'm going to bed. Maybe not back tomorrow...back Thursday probably...tomorrow I'm going shopping with Mama Spatula...retail therapy.
