I don't want my heart to skip a beat whenever I see or think of you.
I don't want to go to social functions and hope I'll see you there.
I don't want to think of you almost every second of the day.
I don't want mental images of you to flash through my mind when I finally do manage to think of something else.
I don't want to wonder what kind of kisser you are.
I don't want to hold on to every brush of skin or quick glance.
I don't want to fall in love with you.
I just don't think I can deal with it right now.
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Saturday, September 22, 2012
Crush Crush Crush
One of the hardest things I've had to deal with as a gay man is getting crushes on straight friends. Which, I suppose, does make me pretty lucky; my coming out was super easy, I've never had any problems making friends who've accepted me for who I am, and I've never been the target of an anti-gay crime. So, I suppose I've lived a pretty charmed life as an out gay man. Still, matters of the heart are always complicated and usually pretty shitty, sometimes for parties who aren't even involved.
When you develop a crush on a straight guy, though (or a straight female if your a lesbian, or a gay member of the opposite sex if you're straight), you're completely helpless. You know that no matter what you do, how you change yourself, how well you treat them, they will never feel the same way about you as you do about them. And because you've already accepted these truths, it becomes even harder to distinguish a crush from love. Or maybe you don't allow yourself to realize it; you pretend you don't know you're in love or not because of the futility of it all.
As you can probably tell, I'm no stranger to these affections. Almost all of my crushes have been straight men, and I've even fallen into desperately unrequited love with some of them. And it may be happening again. "Luckily," because I've been through this all before, I've become much more adept at handling these emotions. I used to fall into deep depressions because of them, wanting someone I knew would never love me back. Eventually you find ways to put "positive spin" on your feelings though, expressing them in subtle ways so you don't reveal them, but you also don't bottle them up.
I feel like love, real love, is best expressed through the object of your affections happiness. I know this person will never love me, so I just want to see him happy. I know he won't be happy with me, so I gladly accept whatever person in his life he has that makes him happy. I'll be the best friend that I can be to him, because friendship is the best love I can get back from him. It's not perfect, and sometimes you do have moments where you just think of the utter hopelessness of it all.
It's difficult to not see him without your heart skipping a beat or getting caught in your throat; you have trouble thinking about things that aren't him; you wonder what kind of couple you could have been, but you know will never happen. You don't want to, but your mind won't let you think about something that doesn't involve him. It's almost like a sickness you can't get rid of. But, speaking from personal experience, you will move on.
You won't stop loving him. But you can deal with seeing him on a daily basis without longing for something more. You'll think about someone else in those quiet moments when you daydream about falling in love. Maybe you'll even find someone else who catches your eye, someone you can find a way to be with. And a small part of you will continue longing for that person, and the rest of you may not be happy, but you will be content, which is a blessing in itself.
When you develop a crush on a straight guy, though (or a straight female if your a lesbian, or a gay member of the opposite sex if you're straight), you're completely helpless. You know that no matter what you do, how you change yourself, how well you treat them, they will never feel the same way about you as you do about them. And because you've already accepted these truths, it becomes even harder to distinguish a crush from love. Or maybe you don't allow yourself to realize it; you pretend you don't know you're in love or not because of the futility of it all.
As you can probably tell, I'm no stranger to these affections. Almost all of my crushes have been straight men, and I've even fallen into desperately unrequited love with some of them. And it may be happening again. "Luckily," because I've been through this all before, I've become much more adept at handling these emotions. I used to fall into deep depressions because of them, wanting someone I knew would never love me back. Eventually you find ways to put "positive spin" on your feelings though, expressing them in subtle ways so you don't reveal them, but you also don't bottle them up.
I feel like love, real love, is best expressed through the object of your affections happiness. I know this person will never love me, so I just want to see him happy. I know he won't be happy with me, so I gladly accept whatever person in his life he has that makes him happy. I'll be the best friend that I can be to him, because friendship is the best love I can get back from him. It's not perfect, and sometimes you do have moments where you just think of the utter hopelessness of it all.
It's difficult to not see him without your heart skipping a beat or getting caught in your throat; you have trouble thinking about things that aren't him; you wonder what kind of couple you could have been, but you know will never happen. You don't want to, but your mind won't let you think about something that doesn't involve him. It's almost like a sickness you can't get rid of. But, speaking from personal experience, you will move on.
You won't stop loving him. But you can deal with seeing him on a daily basis without longing for something more. You'll think about someone else in those quiet moments when you daydream about falling in love. Maybe you'll even find someone else who catches your eye, someone you can find a way to be with. And a small part of you will continue longing for that person, and the rest of you may not be happy, but you will be content, which is a blessing in itself.
Monday, July 30, 2012
Worst Enemy
I miss my friends. I miss all of them, at the same time. I miss the ease with which we used to hang out. But, I suppose things always fall apart in the end, don't they? Maybe this is why I used to place myself on the outskirts of so many different social groups- because somehow I knew the group I found myself with most would fall apart, and I would need another one to pick myself back up. Maybe that's one of those wicked personality traits you get being the child of divorced parents. I had always thought I'd avoided any sort of psychological damage from my parents divorce, but a lack of trust that relationships won't fall apart? The ease in which I simply phase people out of my life, with an unconscious effort? Could these be the far reaching effects of being the witness to my parents volatile relationship? Could I have developed this strange self-defense mechanism that caused me to distance myself from relationships I knew would fall apart?
Years after we'd known each other, after we'd identified one another as best friends, Emily told me she didn't actually know much about me. I'd like to think she knows a bit more about me now, but thinking about all my friends, who really knows that much about me? Inside and out? Sam has known me for years, we've shared our childhood, but been apart most of our adult life. She knows the person I used to be, but I doubt she knows the person I am today; at least, not well. Meghan knows me fairly well, due to my mom and having seen my family life first-hand. And then Emily probably has the best idea of my character, due both to our friendship and her strangely perceptive mind. But, in all of these scenarios, its not the fact that I let my guard down that gave my friends this insight, its a shared past or experience, learning through trial rather than communication.
It's been my biggest difficulty in pursuing an education in the performing arts. Even for someone interested in acting, which may seem silly to some; though it seems like an outlet to escape being yourself (and it can be) you're also leaving yourself bare. You're giving up the walls you create when you perform, boring holes in it to allow people to see something real in the facade you're creating. I remember in Fundamentals of Acting we were tasked with performing a monologue, one we were to write ourselves. I could have done the easy thing and just wrote a funny one- as a matter of fact, it's probably what I should have done- but instead, I wrote a monologue about being abandoned by one of my best friends, Jake. I thought it would be a simple thing to give the monologue in front of everyone. I had the lines memorized, but I hadn't realized how hard it would be to convey this feeling of abandonment in front of my classmates. I stared at the floor and avoided their gazes, as if that would spare me from their judgement.
I'm not sure if anybody actually judged, though. At least, not maliciously. Perhaps it was because we all had to do the same thing, we all had to bare our souls before our classmates. We could empathize with the feeling of discomfort we all felt. Maybe all it takes is a bit of empathy to nullify your own, personal judgement. Artists play at CCH all the time, some of them great, others... less so. But, regardless of their performance, I'm always impressed with and envy their ability to be on stage, to be brave enough to face the crowd. I imagine even those that don't look nervous are far more fearful than they let on. I would be.
Returning to the point at hand, these walls I've built have kept me confined from my friends. I speak my mind when it doesn't pertain to me, when it's not revealing anything about myself. Luke needs some advice on something personal? I'll give him the answer I think is the best course of action. Somebody asks, "How are you feeling, Timmy?" I say, "Oh, I feel fine," regardless of what I'm feeling. Is it wrong to do that to your friends? To block them out of your personal life, when they continue to let you in? The longer I get to know someone, the thicker the walls get. The closer I get to someone, the more indifferent I act around them, when in truth I love them very much. All my friends- the ones I long abandoned, and the ones who long abandoned me, and the ones who stick around today. But I love them at arms length, too uncomfortable with myself to let someone else in my head. I don't let people know how I'm feeling, when all I need is someone to talk to.
My insecurity is my enemy. I am my own worst enemy.
Years after we'd known each other, after we'd identified one another as best friends, Emily told me she didn't actually know much about me. I'd like to think she knows a bit more about me now, but thinking about all my friends, who really knows that much about me? Inside and out? Sam has known me for years, we've shared our childhood, but been apart most of our adult life. She knows the person I used to be, but I doubt she knows the person I am today; at least, not well. Meghan knows me fairly well, due to my mom and having seen my family life first-hand. And then Emily probably has the best idea of my character, due both to our friendship and her strangely perceptive mind. But, in all of these scenarios, its not the fact that I let my guard down that gave my friends this insight, its a shared past or experience, learning through trial rather than communication.
It's been my biggest difficulty in pursuing an education in the performing arts. Even for someone interested in acting, which may seem silly to some; though it seems like an outlet to escape being yourself (and it can be) you're also leaving yourself bare. You're giving up the walls you create when you perform, boring holes in it to allow people to see something real in the facade you're creating. I remember in Fundamentals of Acting we were tasked with performing a monologue, one we were to write ourselves. I could have done the easy thing and just wrote a funny one- as a matter of fact, it's probably what I should have done- but instead, I wrote a monologue about being abandoned by one of my best friends, Jake. I thought it would be a simple thing to give the monologue in front of everyone. I had the lines memorized, but I hadn't realized how hard it would be to convey this feeling of abandonment in front of my classmates. I stared at the floor and avoided their gazes, as if that would spare me from their judgement.
I'm not sure if anybody actually judged, though. At least, not maliciously. Perhaps it was because we all had to do the same thing, we all had to bare our souls before our classmates. We could empathize with the feeling of discomfort we all felt. Maybe all it takes is a bit of empathy to nullify your own, personal judgement. Artists play at CCH all the time, some of them great, others... less so. But, regardless of their performance, I'm always impressed with and envy their ability to be on stage, to be brave enough to face the crowd. I imagine even those that don't look nervous are far more fearful than they let on. I would be.
Returning to the point at hand, these walls I've built have kept me confined from my friends. I speak my mind when it doesn't pertain to me, when it's not revealing anything about myself. Luke needs some advice on something personal? I'll give him the answer I think is the best course of action. Somebody asks, "How are you feeling, Timmy?" I say, "Oh, I feel fine," regardless of what I'm feeling. Is it wrong to do that to your friends? To block them out of your personal life, when they continue to let you in? The longer I get to know someone, the thicker the walls get. The closer I get to someone, the more indifferent I act around them, when in truth I love them very much. All my friends- the ones I long abandoned, and the ones who long abandoned me, and the ones who stick around today. But I love them at arms length, too uncomfortable with myself to let someone else in my head. I don't let people know how I'm feeling, when all I need is someone to talk to.
My insecurity is my enemy. I am my own worst enemy.
Saturday, July 7, 2012
The best laid plans
I'm scared. I'm scared that everything I've ever tried to avoid in my life, all that normality and mediocrity I talked about in my last post, is catching up to me now. I work at a gas station, not quite 9-5 but still incredibly menial. I suppose some people think I should be happy about that. I should be content with my completely unimpressive and depressing job and just be glad I'm a tax paying American citizen. But fuck those people. Fuck the life they think I should have, or the way they think I should live my life. Fuck me, for being incapable of getting out of this life. For being too much of a coward to have followed my dreams before, for not trying out for plays when I had the chance, or moving out of Alaska, or in the very least Fairbanks, when I thought I could.
As much as I disagree with the lifestyle choices Kylie's making, as well as the fashion choices she makes, I'm completely envious of her courage. How she was able to pack up and leave her life in Fairbanks behind and just start new and fresh in San Francisco. I'd love to be able to do that. Maybe I can. Work off the student loans I've accumulated so far and see what they'd make of me in San Fran? Maybe even apply for school down there? Kylie's one of the few success stories I know of, though. Most people who've moved to the lower 48, that I know of, have ended up moving back due to homesickness or financial reasons. People I would consider much stronger people than I. What's more, I've made this case to myself before, also. I told myself I was gonna move out of Alaska in a year... two years ago.
I barely even know how to be an adult. Credit? It's probably crap, in all honesty. I'm pretty sure I'm in debt, and I haven't even started paying off my student loans yet. Still, there's always those stories that give you hope, that make you wonder if maybe you could also be special, meant for great things. Madonna moved to New York with $30-something in her pocket. Chris Colfer was an unknown kid from the midwest, and now he's a huge gay icon who's best known character was literally written into the show he stars in because they liked his audition so much. I don't think I can hold a candle to Madonna or Chris Colfer, or any number of talented celebrities with humble backgrounds, but I don't know if I could live with myself if I didn't even try.
Which has always been my downfall. I fear failure, and so I never try anything. I never audition or try to pick up a new skill, especially a performing skill, because then not only is there the possibility of failure, but there's the possibility of failing in front of an audience. Fear has always been the primary motivator of my inaction, so it only makes sense that the only way I could get out of this sickening rut would be an equally terrifying presence in my life- mediocrity. If it's gonna work this time, though, I need to stick to my guns. I don't have the luxury of giving up this time, I can feel it. So, here's my plan:
The next audition I hear of, I'm trying out for. I've already asked Hannah to keep me in the loop, and I've got a couple of the theaters in Fairbanks set to send me an e-mail alerting me of upcoming auditions. I need to go to school here for at least another semester, in order to get my GPA up. Then I'll start applying for schools in the lower 48, and scholarships. Maybe I'll even focus on theater magnet schools. I just know that if I don't motivate myself enough this time, I'm gonna fall back into that same rut I've been in and I'm don't think I'll ever be able to climb back out. Not the way I want to, anyway.
As much as I disagree with the lifestyle choices Kylie's making, as well as the fashion choices she makes, I'm completely envious of her courage. How she was able to pack up and leave her life in Fairbanks behind and just start new and fresh in San Francisco. I'd love to be able to do that. Maybe I can. Work off the student loans I've accumulated so far and see what they'd make of me in San Fran? Maybe even apply for school down there? Kylie's one of the few success stories I know of, though. Most people who've moved to the lower 48, that I know of, have ended up moving back due to homesickness or financial reasons. People I would consider much stronger people than I. What's more, I've made this case to myself before, also. I told myself I was gonna move out of Alaska in a year... two years ago.
I barely even know how to be an adult. Credit? It's probably crap, in all honesty. I'm pretty sure I'm in debt, and I haven't even started paying off my student loans yet. Still, there's always those stories that give you hope, that make you wonder if maybe you could also be special, meant for great things. Madonna moved to New York with $30-something in her pocket. Chris Colfer was an unknown kid from the midwest, and now he's a huge gay icon who's best known character was literally written into the show he stars in because they liked his audition so much. I don't think I can hold a candle to Madonna or Chris Colfer, or any number of talented celebrities with humble backgrounds, but I don't know if I could live with myself if I didn't even try.
Which has always been my downfall. I fear failure, and so I never try anything. I never audition or try to pick up a new skill, especially a performing skill, because then not only is there the possibility of failure, but there's the possibility of failing in front of an audience. Fear has always been the primary motivator of my inaction, so it only makes sense that the only way I could get out of this sickening rut would be an equally terrifying presence in my life- mediocrity. If it's gonna work this time, though, I need to stick to my guns. I don't have the luxury of giving up this time, I can feel it. So, here's my plan:
The next audition I hear of, I'm trying out for. I've already asked Hannah to keep me in the loop, and I've got a couple of the theaters in Fairbanks set to send me an e-mail alerting me of upcoming auditions. I need to go to school here for at least another semester, in order to get my GPA up. Then I'll start applying for schools in the lower 48, and scholarships. Maybe I'll even focus on theater magnet schools. I just know that if I don't motivate myself enough this time, I'm gonna fall back into that same rut I've been in and I'm don't think I'll ever be able to climb back out. Not the way I want to, anyway.
Saturday, June 16, 2012
Mediocrity
It's really frustrating having so many talented friends. I mean, I adore my friends, and I really love the fact that they're talented, but it really makes you realize how unimpressive you are. I can't play any instruments, I don't have any cool tricks or hobbies. I can't draw to save my life. I suppose if you need to ask someone about comic books or how to get to the next level in a videogame I'm your guy, but that's about as far as my talent reaches. Hell, even my little brother is learning to play guitar and piano. People always tell me I'm creative, but I've got no outlets for this creativity they supposedly see in me, so how can they even tell? Even my blog posts are sporadic and sometimes messy.
I was so sure of myself when I was young. I really believed that I had this creativity, this talent, that would take me places. I was sure I was gonna be an actor, or a singer. I was comfortable with that kind of attention, then. And I'm not saying I'm shy, because I love attention just as much as the biggest starlet, but I have a terrible discomfort with crowds. And stage fright isn't really a conducive trait for a performer. And I haven't acted in anything since, like, elementary school. I envy Hannah for her ability to thrive on the stage. She loves what she does, she loves the crowd, and I wish I had that. Because, as it stands, I'm going nowhere and fast. I'm gonna end up living the kind of life I've always told myself I wouldn't live because I have no other options.
I'm gonna work a 9-5 job, earn a steady income, live a mediocre life. There will be nothing impressive about me. I don't think I can properly explain how much I've tried to avoid living that kind of life. And it's not so much that I want the glamor of a performer, though that is a part of it, but I don't want mediocrity. I don't want to be someone who blends into the crowd. I want to be someone who turns heads when I walk, the kind of person you can't help but notice. I refuse normality, although I'm also pretty sure normality refused me long ago. But where do I go from here?
I need a push. Something that will get me really going on achieving these things. I need to audition for plays. I need to take vocal lessons. Maybe even pick up an instrument. I need to write more often. I need something to save me from the mediocrity I've been stewing in, because I can't do it anymore. I don't want to do it anymore. I refuse to do it.
I was so sure of myself when I was young. I really believed that I had this creativity, this talent, that would take me places. I was sure I was gonna be an actor, or a singer. I was comfortable with that kind of attention, then. And I'm not saying I'm shy, because I love attention just as much as the biggest starlet, but I have a terrible discomfort with crowds. And stage fright isn't really a conducive trait for a performer. And I haven't acted in anything since, like, elementary school. I envy Hannah for her ability to thrive on the stage. She loves what she does, she loves the crowd, and I wish I had that. Because, as it stands, I'm going nowhere and fast. I'm gonna end up living the kind of life I've always told myself I wouldn't live because I have no other options.
I'm gonna work a 9-5 job, earn a steady income, live a mediocre life. There will be nothing impressive about me. I don't think I can properly explain how much I've tried to avoid living that kind of life. And it's not so much that I want the glamor of a performer, though that is a part of it, but I don't want mediocrity. I don't want to be someone who blends into the crowd. I want to be someone who turns heads when I walk, the kind of person you can't help but notice. I refuse normality, although I'm also pretty sure normality refused me long ago. But where do I go from here?
I need a push. Something that will get me really going on achieving these things. I need to audition for plays. I need to take vocal lessons. Maybe even pick up an instrument. I need to write more often. I need something to save me from the mediocrity I've been stewing in, because I can't do it anymore. I don't want to do it anymore. I refuse to do it.
Monday, May 14, 2012
Time Heals All Wounds...?
You know, I always figured this would get easier. You've been gone for 9 years, but I still think about you on a regular basis. I guess that's to be expected, though... It would be unfair to just completely forget you. And I don't think I'd ever want that. I just want this to get easier. I'm tired of wondering about the person you would be today, or thinking back to the days when we played hide-and-go-seek tag in your yard. The days I would stay the night at your house and your mom would record Pokemon for us to watch when we woke up.
I feel so bad for your family too, but what do I say? Sure, it's been 9 years since we all lost you, but is this an approachable subject now? I just don't know who else to talk to about you. I don't have the same friends we used to. Jonny is not the person I used to know... BJ is just as scandalous and stupid as he ever was. Jacob stopped being friends with me when I came out to him... That's another thing I always wondered about. Would we still have been friends if you had been alive when I came out? I'd like to think so. Sometimes I wonder if you maybe had the same secrets I did- I always remember you telling us you had a crush on someone, but you would never tell us who it was... was it a guy?
I miss you, Pat. I wish you were still around. I miss the way you used to say my name, or the way we would fight about something really stupid and you would always apologize first because I was/am far too stubborn to do it. I miss your laugh, and your smile. I miss how you always stuck up for me, even though I was the weird kid in McGrath. How you always made sure I was included in things, even things you knew I wouldn't like but would go do anyway because it was better than being alone. I wish I didn't have to do this without you. I wish I knew what would have happened to us if you hadn't died. I wish you were still alive, and still my best friend. I wish I could hear your voice again.
I feel so bad for your family too, but what do I say? Sure, it's been 9 years since we all lost you, but is this an approachable subject now? I just don't know who else to talk to about you. I don't have the same friends we used to. Jonny is not the person I used to know... BJ is just as scandalous and stupid as he ever was. Jacob stopped being friends with me when I came out to him... That's another thing I always wondered about. Would we still have been friends if you had been alive when I came out? I'd like to think so. Sometimes I wonder if you maybe had the same secrets I did- I always remember you telling us you had a crush on someone, but you would never tell us who it was... was it a guy?
I miss you, Pat. I wish you were still around. I miss the way you used to say my name, or the way we would fight about something really stupid and you would always apologize first because I was/am far too stubborn to do it. I miss your laugh, and your smile. I miss how you always stuck up for me, even though I was the weird kid in McGrath. How you always made sure I was included in things, even things you knew I wouldn't like but would go do anyway because it was better than being alone. I wish I didn't have to do this without you. I wish I knew what would have happened to us if you hadn't died. I wish you were still alive, and still my best friend. I wish I could hear your voice again.
Friday, May 4, 2012
I Get By With A Little Help From My Friends
I watched an episode of How I Met Your Mother a couple weeks ago that really got me thinking. In the episode, Lily invites all of her friends to see a play she was in. They all go, of course, even if they do have to convince Barney to go. When the play was over everyone tells Lily how great it was, except Barney, who says straight-up, "That was awful!" (It was.) This sparks a debate between them on if friends should always be honest with one-another and sit through things they know they won't enjoy for their friend's sake, or if they should always support their friends endeavors, despite your own personal thoughts on the matter.
In order to prove his point, Barney writes a one-man show specifically tailored to be awful and make Lily hate it. Halfway through his show, Lily gives up and tells Barney he was right and that it was terrible. Proud of his endeavor, Barney is also a little bit disappointed that, with Lily's admission, he doesn't get to finish his show. Seeing his despondence over it, Lily tells Barney he can finish his show; she sits back down and continues to watch a show that was tailor-made for her to hate it. Simply because she knows it matters to Barney and he is her friend. This got me thinking about myself and my own friends.
There are a lot of situations in which I am the "Barney" to my friends. When Hannah was in the Vagina Monologues, a show she was really proud of, I told her I wasn't going to see it because the content didn't appeal to me. As her friend, though, wasn't it my duty to go to the show and support her anyway? Earlier in the week I received a message from my mom telling me she would be home soon. As she had been gone for months, and I am a terrible housekeeper and had been throwing parties almost every weekend, the house was a wreck. Many of my friends had expressed an interest in helping me clean, since they had been present at a lot of the parties that caused the mess. The first person to show up was Hannah, though I sent her off early because a friend of hers needed someone to talk to.
I have friends who are willing to come to my house and help me clean it, while I wasn't even willing to spend a few uncomfortable hours listening to a performance by one of my friends. This whole chain of events got me thinking about friendships in general, the concept of friends and the reason we keep the friends we keep. I examined some of my own relationships, like my relationship with Meghan. Despite the fact that I have housed her entirely rent free and that, due to her lack of job and finances, I supported the both of us with my student loan, she chose to get drunk at a party in town instead of coming to the house to clean with the rest of our friends. Still, despite the fact that I was angry at her for a couple days, I find myself enjoying her company from time-to-time.
I don't hate Meghan. I love her. I just can't depend on her, and I know she's lied and attempted to manipulate me, and so I also can't trust her. I still consider her a friend, though, and it's this idea that confounds me; if I think this way about Meghan, what must others think of me? Perhaps I'm more thoughtless than I should be. Having so many people come to my house and clean, seeing all of my friends get this house cleaner than it's been since my mom left, I realized how much I depend on my friends. It made me realize just how much the relationships I have mean to me and how much I must mean to them in order for them to go out of their way to help me.
I don't want my friends to look at me the way I now look at Meghan. I don't want to be someone they care for, yet know they can't depend on. I want to hold on to this feeling I have, this feeling of intimacy and compassion and trust and love that I have for them, and I want them to feel it, also. I want to know they feel about me the way I feel about them, even if it is selfish to want all of that.
In order to prove his point, Barney writes a one-man show specifically tailored to be awful and make Lily hate it. Halfway through his show, Lily gives up and tells Barney he was right and that it was terrible. Proud of his endeavor, Barney is also a little bit disappointed that, with Lily's admission, he doesn't get to finish his show. Seeing his despondence over it, Lily tells Barney he can finish his show; she sits back down and continues to watch a show that was tailor-made for her to hate it. Simply because she knows it matters to Barney and he is her friend. This got me thinking about myself and my own friends.
There are a lot of situations in which I am the "Barney" to my friends. When Hannah was in the Vagina Monologues, a show she was really proud of, I told her I wasn't going to see it because the content didn't appeal to me. As her friend, though, wasn't it my duty to go to the show and support her anyway? Earlier in the week I received a message from my mom telling me she would be home soon. As she had been gone for months, and I am a terrible housekeeper and had been throwing parties almost every weekend, the house was a wreck. Many of my friends had expressed an interest in helping me clean, since they had been present at a lot of the parties that caused the mess. The first person to show up was Hannah, though I sent her off early because a friend of hers needed someone to talk to.
I have friends who are willing to come to my house and help me clean it, while I wasn't even willing to spend a few uncomfortable hours listening to a performance by one of my friends. This whole chain of events got me thinking about friendships in general, the concept of friends and the reason we keep the friends we keep. I examined some of my own relationships, like my relationship with Meghan. Despite the fact that I have housed her entirely rent free and that, due to her lack of job and finances, I supported the both of us with my student loan, she chose to get drunk at a party in town instead of coming to the house to clean with the rest of our friends. Still, despite the fact that I was angry at her for a couple days, I find myself enjoying her company from time-to-time.
I don't hate Meghan. I love her. I just can't depend on her, and I know she's lied and attempted to manipulate me, and so I also can't trust her. I still consider her a friend, though, and it's this idea that confounds me; if I think this way about Meghan, what must others think of me? Perhaps I'm more thoughtless than I should be. Having so many people come to my house and clean, seeing all of my friends get this house cleaner than it's been since my mom left, I realized how much I depend on my friends. It made me realize just how much the relationships I have mean to me and how much I must mean to them in order for them to go out of their way to help me.
I don't want my friends to look at me the way I now look at Meghan. I don't want to be someone they care for, yet know they can't depend on. I want to hold on to this feeling I have, this feeling of intimacy and compassion and trust and love that I have for them, and I want them to feel it, also. I want to know they feel about me the way I feel about them, even if it is selfish to want all of that.
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