1. My birthday party was a lot of fun, and there was no group-mixing drama. I guess my theoretical analysis was pretty accurate. I’ve always been good with theory, though. I am a mathematician, after all.
2. Even though I spent the day slogging through some binomial probability misery, I can’t help but think to myself that taking the job at U of C was one of the best decisions I ever made. I’m really good at what I do, and I feel that my work is important and worthwhile. I never really felt that way at my last job. My job also connected me with some really great friends, and I’m equally grateful for that.
3. It’s been about two and a half years since I took in my kitty, and at certain moments, I am still amazed what an extraordinarily good companion she is. She’s a loudmouth, and she scratches my furniture, but I can’t imagine how lonely my apartment would be without her.
4. It’s almost the end of January, and that means we are through a substantial portion of the winter. Amen to that. I think perhaps this one was a little easier than the last. Of course, now I just jinxed it.
5. I’m starting to train for the half marathon, and I am actually really excited about it. I think it’s because running is the first thing I have ever really succeeded at athletically. I’m only competing against myself, for myself, and that relieves a lot of pressure for me. It also makes running achievements all that more satisfying – I always know I did it all on my own.
6. I can hear my neighbors talking through the walls right now. I can’t hear individual words, only murmuring and laughter. It makes me smile to hear them laugh, even though I don’t know them. The more laughter in the world, the better. Look at me; now that I’m 26, I apparently think I am a wise sage.
7. Today, Governor Blagojevich compared himself to Ghandi. He’s completely delusional. Also, the auto industry continues to collapse. So, both Illinois and Michigan are in rough shape. I’m starting to think it’s got something to do with me. Don’t let me move to your state.
8. I just put my iTunes on. I always forget how music can help me focus and invigorate me. I really don’t utilize it enough.
9. The other interesting thing about listening to music is how different songs make me think of different people and different parts of my life. It’s a fun thing to do on my birthday, when I’m reflecting on things past. I wonder how my friends from Sweden would feel about the fact that I associate them with “Shut Up” by the Black Eyed Peas. (Actually, I know they would understand exactly why it makes me think of them. Oh, the memories of cheap German wine….)
10. I’m proud of myself for getting involved with some things this year. Leading the food pantry bagging, in particular, has been a trip. There’s never a dull moment. Last week, I had two toddlers who put cans of tuna in the bags for me. The week before, one of the French community teens told me they couldn’t find the tuna, but they finished packing the Chicken of the Sea. Hmm, why do all the interesting stories involve tuna?
11. Every morning, I see the same people at the bus stop, yet I don’t know any of their names. Is that sad, or just the nature of riding public transportation?
12. Wicked closed yesterday. It still makes me sad. It’s going to be weird seeing a different marquee at the theater. It’s almost like an old friend moved away.
13. I’m going to see Spamalot this weekend. It will be my 49th musical. I feel I should commemorate #50 somehow. Any ideas? Anyone want to come?
14. It’s been a tight month, but I’ve still got $38 left in my budget to last me until I get paid on Friday. I plan to spend it on beer and bar food at trivia tomorrow. I wouldn’t admit that, but since it’s my birthday today, you are not allowed to judge.
15. I can’t believe the number of people that wrote on my Facebook wall today. One was sitting about 4 feet from me at the time. Another wrote from Sweden. Oh, the wonders of technology.
16. The alarm clock next to my bed is five minutes fast, and the clock on my VCR is three minutes slow. These are the only readily visible clocks in my apartment. I’m not sure why I’m so anal retentive about most things but I find my clocks completely normal.
17. I complain often about the lack of space in my studio apartment, but looking around, I think perhaps I could utilize the space better. For instance, do I need three pairs of huge plush slippers – cats, ladybugs, and giraffes? …. Yes, yes I do. Never mind.
18. I’m usually very conscious of what I eat, but today, just for the day, I ate whatever the heck I wanted, which included a cream cheese Danish, several chocolate covered strawberries, Coldstone ice cream, and hot chocolate. It was so worth it. I really recommend treating yourself on your birthday.
19. Nothing touches me more than when someone does or says something that shows that they were listening to me in some idle conversation in the past. A friend came to my birthday party bearing a Borders gift card. It may seem like a generic, safe gift, but she also said she looked for the book I was reading now – which I had told her I was really enjoying a few days before – and looked for something like it. She eventually decided to go with the gift card, but the fact that she remembered the title of the book really got me. Thanks, Carla.
20. I’m looking right now at the other gift I received that night – a bowl, hand thrown and glazed by the only amateur potter I know. It came with an opportunity for a trade-in when he goes pro. How can I not be flattered? I had almost forgotten how much fun it was to receive a handmade gift. Thanks, Ben. I’ll always think of this birthday when I look at it.
21. Actually, perhaps it’s any out-of-the-way effort that gets to me. Thanks, Cabby and Guacs, for letting me host at your apartment.
22. Thanks Jess, for coming from the other end of the city.
23. Thanks Meg, for getting there from Chinatown, bearing fortune cookies.
24. Thanks Carlos, for bringing me the top-shelf beer. It all meant a lot to me.
25. I am happy. I am truly, honestly satisfied with my life right now, and that’s the best birthday gift I could ask for. I’ve worked really hard over the past few years to discover things that interest me, follow my passions, and meet new people, and all of that has really paid off for me. It’s the best birthday gift I could have asked for, and I thank everyone who has helped me get here.
26. This 27th year? I think it’s going to be a good one.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Monday, January 19, 2009
Birthday masks?
Well, folks, it’s t-minus one week until I turn 26. Since my birthday is on the 26th of January, that makes this my golden birthday! And I’m proud to report that in my three and a half years in the city, I have finally met enough people that I can throw a party.
Yup, next Saturday, I’ve invited all my friends to come and celebrate with me at my gracious host’s lakefront condo. I sent an evite, and so far I have 17 e-yeses and 2 e-maybes. That’s a lot of e-sponses! (Yes, Scrubs fans, I did borrow that line from J.D.) I’m really excited that so many people are coming. (Though I barely know a few of them, so this kinda makes it look like I have more friends than I really do. Shut up. It’s my birthday. Let me have it.)
The high number of attendees is actually going to make this quite interesting, because it’s my first attempt at mixing groups of friends. Theoretically, this should not be a big deal, but the idea has gotten me thinking about a skit that comedian Jim Gaffigan does about the different faces we put on for different groups. He says something like, “Just so you know, this group thinks I don’t drink, and that group thinks I have a British accent.” Obviously, no one thinks I have a British accent (I wouldn’t be able to fake it if I tried!) and I’m pretty sure I’ve never so much as insinuated that I don’t drink. However, I have been thinking about the ways I act around each group and wondering if there will be any surprises for anyone.
Let’s examine the facts, shall we?
Group: co-workers
What we’ve done together: Work (obviously), so they know that I am generally focused worker who doesn’t leave her desk much. Bar trivia, so they know I’m clueless when it comes to sports, and not much better when it comes to anything but math. Other parties, so they have seen me drink and know I suck at beer pong.
What they don’t know: any details about my life before I moved to Chicago – no ex-boy drama, no family drama, no study abroad trauma. They know who I am now, but not where I come from.
Group: ex-roommates
What we’ve done together: Lived (obviously) through my first year in the city, so they saw my rocky homesickness phase and my depressed, post heart-ripping-out phase, and they know I basically won’t clean until something’s disgusting. Some bar outings, so they know a lot about my once-controlling, now under-control social anxiety issues about bars.
What they don’t know: How much my current situation suits me, and how involved I’ve gotten with social and volunteering stuff. They saw me struggle. I’m not sure they saw me get all the way out of the abyss.
Group: friends from undergrad
What we’ve done together: Gone to school (do I need to say it again?), so they know I am a grade monger to the extreme. Done lots of church and volunteer stuff, so they know I have it in me to be a successful, albeit reluctant, leader.
What they don’t know: The ways I interact with my boss and coworkers, and how seriously I take my job. We don’t talk about work all that much, and I don’t think they really know how good I am at my job and how much I really love it.
Group: friends from grad school
What we’ve done together: Studied, studied, studied, so they know how I am obsessive compulsive about getting stuff done. Done some Harry Potter discussions and games, so they know the extent of my nerd-dom in that department.
What they don’t know: almost anything about my life before or after grad school. During that year, school was my life, and the only other thing I talked about was joining the Peace Corps. So, looking back, I’m not sure they know much more than how I felt and acted during that one year of my life. However, they are the only ones that really know about that year.
Group: well, this time, one person – my sister.
What we’ve done together: Oh good God, shared a bedroom, shared a bathroom, shared the back seat of a car on long trips… you know how it is with siblings. Since she moved to Chicago, gone to plays and dinner from time to time. Laurie was a part of my everyday life until she left for college, and has heard second hand about most of my life’s triumphs and defeats after that.
What she doesn’t know: The day-to-day details of my life right now. She only hears about the deviations from that. I’m not sure she knows how I get to work, what I do all day, what coffee shops I frequent, or what TV shows I watch.
So, it’s true that every group has a slightly different picture of me in their minds. But after that analysis, I don’t think that any of those pictures really conflict with each other. They’re just each incomplete – each a different piece of my whole.
This conclusion pleases me, because it means that I’m not really wearing any masks these days. I have different outlets for my different interests, but I don’t become a different person to please different people. Maybe, after 26 years, I have figured out who I really am.
Of course, this is just a theoretical analysis. I’ll be interested to see what happens at the party. Perhaps you, reader, will be there, but if not – wish me luck.
Yup, next Saturday, I’ve invited all my friends to come and celebrate with me at my gracious host’s lakefront condo. I sent an evite, and so far I have 17 e-yeses and 2 e-maybes. That’s a lot of e-sponses! (Yes, Scrubs fans, I did borrow that line from J.D.) I’m really excited that so many people are coming. (Though I barely know a few of them, so this kinda makes it look like I have more friends than I really do. Shut up. It’s my birthday. Let me have it.)
The high number of attendees is actually going to make this quite interesting, because it’s my first attempt at mixing groups of friends. Theoretically, this should not be a big deal, but the idea has gotten me thinking about a skit that comedian Jim Gaffigan does about the different faces we put on for different groups. He says something like, “Just so you know, this group thinks I don’t drink, and that group thinks I have a British accent.” Obviously, no one thinks I have a British accent (I wouldn’t be able to fake it if I tried!) and I’m pretty sure I’ve never so much as insinuated that I don’t drink. However, I have been thinking about the ways I act around each group and wondering if there will be any surprises for anyone.
Let’s examine the facts, shall we?
Group: co-workers
What we’ve done together: Work (obviously), so they know that I am generally focused worker who doesn’t leave her desk much. Bar trivia, so they know I’m clueless when it comes to sports, and not much better when it comes to anything but math. Other parties, so they have seen me drink and know I suck at beer pong.
What they don’t know: any details about my life before I moved to Chicago – no ex-boy drama, no family drama, no study abroad trauma. They know who I am now, but not where I come from.
Group: ex-roommates
What we’ve done together: Lived (obviously) through my first year in the city, so they saw my rocky homesickness phase and my depressed, post heart-ripping-out phase, and they know I basically won’t clean until something’s disgusting. Some bar outings, so they know a lot about my once-controlling, now under-control social anxiety issues about bars.
What they don’t know: How much my current situation suits me, and how involved I’ve gotten with social and volunteering stuff. They saw me struggle. I’m not sure they saw me get all the way out of the abyss.
Group: friends from undergrad
What we’ve done together: Gone to school (do I need to say it again?), so they know I am a grade monger to the extreme. Done lots of church and volunteer stuff, so they know I have it in me to be a successful, albeit reluctant, leader.
What they don’t know: The ways I interact with my boss and coworkers, and how seriously I take my job. We don’t talk about work all that much, and I don’t think they really know how good I am at my job and how much I really love it.
Group: friends from grad school
What we’ve done together: Studied, studied, studied, so they know how I am obsessive compulsive about getting stuff done. Done some Harry Potter discussions and games, so they know the extent of my nerd-dom in that department.
What they don’t know: almost anything about my life before or after grad school. During that year, school was my life, and the only other thing I talked about was joining the Peace Corps. So, looking back, I’m not sure they know much more than how I felt and acted during that one year of my life. However, they are the only ones that really know about that year.
Group: well, this time, one person – my sister.
What we’ve done together: Oh good God, shared a bedroom, shared a bathroom, shared the back seat of a car on long trips… you know how it is with siblings. Since she moved to Chicago, gone to plays and dinner from time to time. Laurie was a part of my everyday life until she left for college, and has heard second hand about most of my life’s triumphs and defeats after that.
What she doesn’t know: The day-to-day details of my life right now. She only hears about the deviations from that. I’m not sure she knows how I get to work, what I do all day, what coffee shops I frequent, or what TV shows I watch.
So, it’s true that every group has a slightly different picture of me in their minds. But after that analysis, I don’t think that any of those pictures really conflict with each other. They’re just each incomplete – each a different piece of my whole.
This conclusion pleases me, because it means that I’m not really wearing any masks these days. I have different outlets for my different interests, but I don’t become a different person to please different people. Maybe, after 26 years, I have figured out who I really am.
Of course, this is just a theoretical analysis. I’ll be interested to see what happens at the party. Perhaps you, reader, will be there, but if not – wish me luck.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Who you calling trivial?
So far, my New Year’s resolutions are going well. My first resolution was to write every week. This being my third blog post in three weeks, I call that one a success so far. My second was to finally stop saying I would go to bar trivia and actually go to bar trivia. I’m happy to report that I have actually gone. Twice!
For those not in the know, bar trivia is exactly what it sounds like. One night a week, several bars around the city host a trivia game. Teams of five or so people show up, drink beer, and answer trivia questions read by some sort of host or DJ. There are seven rounds of ten questions, and the top teams win gift certificates, cash prizes, or a percentage off their bill.
My teammates and I went in with low expectations – rather than trying to win, we were just shooting to not be last. On our first night, out of 17 teams, we came in 16th. Not last! On our second try, we came in not last, not second to last, but third to last. Moving up in the world, ever so slowly. In approximately three years, we might win.
Obviously, going to these trivia games is not a big confidence booster. I can’t say I’m surprised by the outcome, but I am surprised by one of the reasons our scores are so low. Sure, there are questions I don’t know. For instance, I don’t know the name of the last University of Michigan player to win the Heisman Trophy. (Charles Woodson) I don’t know which alcoholic drink is also an international radio code word. (whiskey) And I certainly don’t know what world nation is named after a ruler that lived there most recently from 19-something to 19-something. (The answer was Bolivia, but let me assure you, even with the years filled in, the question made no sense.) These missed questions don’t bother me much. There are bound to be lots of bits of knowledge I haven’t come across in my lifetime. The misses that bother me are the answers I DO know, but don’t allow myself to retrieve at the right moment.
Let me illustrate with an example. I knew the answer to this question: What Chinese philosopher was featured in a 1980s song? The answer, of course, is Wang Chung. But the answer we wrote down? Confucius. That’s right. Everybody have fun tonight – everybody Confucius tonight! The most irritating and belittling thing about getting that question wrong is that one of my teammates said the correct answer immediately after she heard the question. We all agreed for a moment, then promptly dismissed the idea that Wang Chung could be a real person. Then, when the DJ read the answers, we all kicked ourselves.
I know lots of 80s music, and I know only one Chinese philosopher. So why did I bank on the Chinese philosopher? Probably because I didn’t want to admit that I know more about 80s music than Chinese philosophers. I would have rather guessed right about a Chinese philosopher than guessed right about 80s pop. It was a stupid kind of pride, and in an attempt to feel smarter, I made myself look (and feel) like an idiot. Score one for Katie!
We’re going to another game next week. My strategy for moving up to fourth to last? Play to my strengths, even if I’m not proud of them.
For those not in the know, bar trivia is exactly what it sounds like. One night a week, several bars around the city host a trivia game. Teams of five or so people show up, drink beer, and answer trivia questions read by some sort of host or DJ. There are seven rounds of ten questions, and the top teams win gift certificates, cash prizes, or a percentage off their bill.
My teammates and I went in with low expectations – rather than trying to win, we were just shooting to not be last. On our first night, out of 17 teams, we came in 16th. Not last! On our second try, we came in not last, not second to last, but third to last. Moving up in the world, ever so slowly. In approximately three years, we might win.
Obviously, going to these trivia games is not a big confidence booster. I can’t say I’m surprised by the outcome, but I am surprised by one of the reasons our scores are so low. Sure, there are questions I don’t know. For instance, I don’t know the name of the last University of Michigan player to win the Heisman Trophy. (Charles Woodson) I don’t know which alcoholic drink is also an international radio code word. (whiskey) And I certainly don’t know what world nation is named after a ruler that lived there most recently from 19-something to 19-something. (The answer was Bolivia, but let me assure you, even with the years filled in, the question made no sense.) These missed questions don’t bother me much. There are bound to be lots of bits of knowledge I haven’t come across in my lifetime. The misses that bother me are the answers I DO know, but don’t allow myself to retrieve at the right moment.
Let me illustrate with an example. I knew the answer to this question: What Chinese philosopher was featured in a 1980s song? The answer, of course, is Wang Chung. But the answer we wrote down? Confucius. That’s right. Everybody have fun tonight – everybody Confucius tonight! The most irritating and belittling thing about getting that question wrong is that one of my teammates said the correct answer immediately after she heard the question. We all agreed for a moment, then promptly dismissed the idea that Wang Chung could be a real person. Then, when the DJ read the answers, we all kicked ourselves.
I know lots of 80s music, and I know only one Chinese philosopher. So why did I bank on the Chinese philosopher? Probably because I didn’t want to admit that I know more about 80s music than Chinese philosophers. I would have rather guessed right about a Chinese philosopher than guessed right about 80s pop. It was a stupid kind of pride, and in an attempt to feel smarter, I made myself look (and feel) like an idiot. Score one for Katie!
We’re going to another game next week. My strategy for moving up to fourth to last? Play to my strengths, even if I’m not proud of them.
Friday, January 09, 2009
I will mourn the Wicked...
It’s a fairly well known fact among my friends and acquaintances that I like musicals. That’s an understatement, really. I’m mildly obsessed. As best as I can recall, I have seen 48 different live musicals, and several of those I have seen up to four times. (Yes, 48. And yes, I have a list. Perhaps I’ll post it as a prelude to this entry.)
Since I have seen, oh, say, 9 times as many musicals as the average American, people often ask me which is my favorite. Mostly, I answer that a dozen different shows have different aspects that are my favorite. The music and story of Jeckyll and Hyde pull at my emotions like no other show. The score of Phantom of the Opera fills an auditorium and surrounds me like no other. The Lion King, without question, is the most amazing visual spectacle I have ever seen. RENT has the best subculture surrounding it, with the front row rush tickets always available for under $25. And no show has ever surprised me as much or made me laugh as hard as The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee.
But after a lot of thought, I realized that I do have an overall favorite. Despite my affection for a wide range of shows, no other holds a place in my heart like Wicked.
What is it about Wicked that makes me love it so? To begin with, the way the story ties into the Wizard of Oz still amazes me. The show not only tells you the witch’s story, it tells you the back story of the Tin Man, the Scarecrow, the Cowardly Lion, and even the Wizard himself. What’s more, the dialogue and lyrics are packed with foreshadowing. Elphaba predicts that she will be “so happy she will melt.” The Scarecrow, before he becomes the Scarecrow, calls himself “brainless.” And several characters forsee a celebration in Oz all about Elphaba – although none of them realize at first that it will be a celebration of her death. The thousand tiny hints that are hidden in Wicked make the soundtrack worth listening to time and time again.
But the really great thing about Wicked is that there is so much more to the show than just the Ozian story. There are many layers to the show, and lots of themes that run through it. There’s the familiar struggle between good and evil, and the unsettling idea that perhaps the line between good and evil is not so clear. There are numerous classic struggles with requited and unrequited love. There’s commentary on government, propaganda, animal rights, and mob mentality. And there’s an examination of the concept of truth: does an ultimate truth exist, or is the truth, as the Wizard suggests, just “what we all agree on”?
Yes, Wicked has a lot going on, and its complexity definitely gives it a high ranking on my list. But I think the thing that makes me really love it is what’s left when you strip all of that away. Because at its core, Wicked is not about Oz, or love, or good and evil. Ultimately, Wicked is a show about saying goodbye.
There are two parts of the show that make me believe this. One is right before intermission, when Elphaba makes the choice to fight against the system, even though she knows she will be on her own. Glinda begs her to change her mind, and reminds her that if she would just apologize and keep quiet, she could have “all she ever wanted.” Elphaba’s reply is, “I know. But I don’t want it. No, I can’t want it any more.” In that moment, she lets go of a dream she held for years, to everything she believed to be true all her life. She says goodbye to the person she was and the life she had hoped to have one day. And she moves off into the unknown.
The other crucial moment is the show is during the closing song. Glinda and Elphaba have spent years seemingly fighting on different sides, but struggling to remain friends at the same time. Finally, they reach a point when they know they will not see each other again. Not because they are forced to be apart, really, but because other choices they made have overpowered their friendship. Despite the fact that both know the other is the best friend she’s ever had, all they can do is look at each other and say, “because I knew you, I have been changed for good.” With that, they say goodbye. And even though I have seen the show five times, I still cry every time.
Wicked speaks to me because facing the reality of these kinds of goodbyes has been one of the hardest lessons I’ve had to learn in my life. I’ve said both kinds of goodbyes in recent years – to dreams and beliefs I held dear for years, and friendships I thought would be for life.
During my second year of college, I got involved in a lot more activities and eventually found myself with a close-knit circle of friends. Among them was someone I even dared to call my best friend. (And from my previous post, you can see how well that label worked out for me in the past.) And also, as you might have guessed, among them was also someone with whom I eventually fell head over heels in love. And I was happy. I really was. Blissfully, if naively, happy.
But it didn’t last. The best friend and I had a fight that left us hardly speaking to each other, and despite my patience and effort, the guy simply did not love me back. This was the state of things when I left for my study abroad semester in
My first months abroad were tumultuous and confusing, but after about three months, I took a trip to
I remember very clearly the moment when I came to a realization that I had always believed that everything could be fixed if I tried hard enough. I could have whatever I wanted if I could just figure out the puzzle.
And after that first realization came a second – I was wrong. There were things I couldn’t fix. No matter how hard I tried, there were some things I could not make into a happy ending.
It doesn’t sound like much, but those two realizations struck me to my core. Without really knowing it, I had envisioned a whole future ahead of me with this best friend and this boyfriend, and I had really believed that there was a way to make it happen. Suddenly, I knew it never would.
I wish I could say that acceptance of that truth came right away, but it was another few years before I reached the point that Elphaba does. I struggled to come to terms with the fact that there was no way to know if I would end up married or single, scraping to make ends meet or living in luxury, fulfilled in my work or just doing something to pay the bills, with the close friend I could on or mostly on my own. But eventually, I did. I congratulated the boy when I found out he was buying a ring for someone else, and said goodbye to the belief that my loving him would ever be enough for him to love me. I hugged the friend goodbye when I left her wedding, knowing there were barriers our friendship simply would never pass. And like Elphaba, I stepped away from the future I had always imagined, away from beliefs I had held for so long, and into the uncomfortable unknown.
Whenever I watch Elphaba say goodbye, I remember those moments. Are they happy memories? Not really. But I find that it’s important for me to be reminded that not everything is fixable, and so not everything is my responsibility to fix. And reliving the realization of those sobering truths also prompts me to think about my life now, and remember that even though I said goodbye to certainty and hello to uncertainty, I am still happy with where I have been and where I seem to be headed.
So yes, I do have a favorite musical, and it’s Wicked. And yes, it’s a show based completely on fantasy. But that’s not why I love it so. I love the reality underneath the fantasy. I love the way it tells a truth it took me 23 years to learn.
It’s two weeks until the show closes in
Thursday, January 01, 2009
Be Fri st ends
While I was home for Christmas, I spent one afternoon going through the armoire that used to stand in my childhood bedroom. It was a task I approached with some trepidation. As I am both sentimental and a packrat, I knew it was full of keepsakes that would bring back memories both fond and bittersweet.
The armoire didn’t disappoint. I found the mousetrap car I built in middle school and the incense burner that my dad and I scoured the Antique Warehouse looking for. There was the film canister full of sand that my 8th-grade love interest brought me back from the
But it was the jewelry that really caught me off guard. In the tangle of chains and cords, I found no less than eight best-friends necklaces, none of which had been taken out or worn in at least seven years. And if the sheer number weren’t enough, I was devastated to realize that I had no idea who had the other half of some of them. Some I recognized immediately, and a few more my sister and mom were able to help me identify. But there are two that I still don’t remember.
When I looked at any of those unidentified necklaces, I couldn’t help but wonder about the other person. Does she still have the necklace, or did she throw it out years ago? Does she remember that I have the other half? Even if her half of the necklace is long gone, does she remember that she once called me her best friend? Or has she forgotten me and the necklace the same way I have forgotten her? I wasn’t sure either answer to that last question would make me feel better.
The whole experience has got me thinking a lot about friendship, and especially about this whole nebulous and vague notion of best friendship. Clearly, I was infatuated with the idea of a best friend when I was younger. I always wanted to have one. But did I ever really have one? Even though I remember six of the eight necklaces, I have not spoken to any of those girls in years. In fact, there is not a single person from high school or before that I am still in contact with. Does that mean that the friendships I had during that time were insignificant? That they weren’t really friendships?
After a lot of reflection, I decided that the answers to that question was no. Those friends were good for me at the time. And though, in some cases, I regret not making the effort to stay in touch, I don’t believe that diminishes the value of the time we spent as friends. The thing I had to admit, however, was that in my almost 26 years I had yet to learn how to make a friendship last. And while I didn’t really believe that made me a bad person, it did make me sad because of its implications. It seemed inevitable that the friends in my life now would eventually fade out.
Luckily, before I even made it back to
But it wasn’t the meeting itself that got me thinking again. It was the way we said goodbye. We walked out to our cars, gave each other a brief hug and a “drive safe,” and left. It was all very abrupt, really. It was not the type of goodbye you’d expect to say to a people you won’t see again for at least a year. It was the kind of comfortable, painless goodbye you’d say to a roommate or significant other when you left for work in the morning.
I thought about that as I drove the rest of the way back to the city, and I had to smile to myself. Goodbyes for the day are comfortable and painless because both people are blessed with a certainty that they will see each other again. I have that same kind of certainty with Alyson and Aaron. Of course, I miss them when long periods of time pass between meetings, but I know the time will come when we’ll see each other again.
So, I do have at least a couple of friendships that I believe will last. Perhaps not for my whole life, and perhaps not even until I’m 30, but at least through this part of my life. It took me until I was in college, but in the end I apparently did figure out how to make a friendship survive gaps in time and geography.
Does the fact that it took me until college bother me? Not really. I’m thankful for all the friends I had in childhood and high school, and I’m sorry to have forgotten a few that I once considered my best friends. But I am far removed from my hometown and the person I was in high school, and the friends that were good for me then likely would not be good for me now. Indeed, I probably would not be the best friend for them, either.
In the end, I kept all of the necklaces, even the ones I couldn’t identify. They’re in an envelope in a drawer in my closet. I expect that I will rediscover them again someday. I may remember all of them by that time, or I may remember even fewer. My only hope is that when the owners of the other halves of those necklaces discover their halves, they’ve said enough painless goodbyes lately to make sure they aren’t distressed if they don’t remember me.
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