For the love of GOD will someone shut my brain off?
I had two posts floating around in my head before I started this...now I have about a million and also a poem for good measure.
One of my posts was funny and about my husband, the fashion plate.
The other, not so funny, more about me and my new year's resolutions that I never make but am making this year because, you know, I kind of hate the person I am lately, and I want to change.
THEN I hopped over to Myspace because I'm nothing if not a joiner, and saw my friend from high school, posting about missing her family, and then a post by my very, very talented friend, Lucas, with a poem about friendship, and, not friendship, and growing up, and not growing up. I think Lucas and I have had enough conversations about this particular subject that I actually freaking know what he's talking about here, and trust me, with his poetry, I don't always. His poem had this incredibly haunting line,
We relived the cracks and wrinkles
On our faces, relived the bent
Bones linging our broken
Backs - And Goddamnit
We looked immaculate.
And now my brain is totally stuck on friendship. Which is funny, because today I had a short conversation with one of my coworkers about the nature of friendship. We are said because the aforementioned lovely France is abandoning us and pursuing her dream, and while we're proud and all that, I will be the first to admit that I am totally selfish and was kind of hoping this wouldn't actually, you know, happen.
It's hard for me to make friends. (If you knew me in high school, you don't believe this. It's TRUE!) For one thing, we're not IN high school. Or college. There is no peer group. How the hell would I meet somebody? Well, one of two ways: through my husband, who has lived here his entire life, or through my job. So. We then have Joy, my friend who is also a mother and is freakishly like me in terms of complete silliness, and then a budding friendship with France, who is not a lot like me in some ways and scarily like me in others. (We both dream about the apocalypse. You know why? Because we are straaaaange.) I get along with the other girls I work with, I like them, and I look forward to seeing them, but it's not like I would call them up if my cat died, you know?
The majority of my friends are "internet" friends, though mostly I refer to them as just "friends" (as in, my friend Lucas) because somehow when you say "internet friend" it sort of seems to cheapen whatever you're trying to relate. These are people who live quite far away from me, but have supported me through some tough times and were willing to email, IM, or phone me with love, or advice, or jokes, even though they've never met me. It's sort of crazy and sort of awesome.
Then there's this whole other set of people. My high school friends. Dear Lord. These are people I hardly EVER get to speak to, much less see, but gosh DARN it if they aren't totally tied to my heart and some of my fondest memories. People will say things and I will snort and remember some damn thing that happened six years ago, and then try to explain why it's funny, and then stop, and then wonder what so-and-so is doing, and think of calling them, and wonder if their email is the same, and this will happen like, at least five times a day.
I used to write a lot of short stories about happy memories with my friends, but now when I try it seems hopelessly twee. Possibly because I know that some of those people were happily referring to me as batshit crazy behind my back, possibly because I had notions of "friends forever" and I can't even remember their last names now.
But I know this:
1)Chris poked me in the ear with a wadded up cone of paper the first time we ever hung out, and when Hurricane Katrina hit, one of the first things I thought of was him, at school somewhere in Louisiana. Have not spoken to him in...four years? Automatically said a prayer.
2)Olivia teased me until I freakin' CRIED. Finally, one day, totally exasperated, she told me to suck it up and take a little friendly ribbing. I think of her jokes daily, and still snerk a little whenever anyone mentions the word "foam." She is one of very few people I am in touch with.
3)I can think of about two hundred happy evenings spend with the same damn group of people, and only remember about twelve fights. The numbers were probably completely opposite, but the good stuff has stuck with me.
In the end, I'm not really sure what more I could ask for.
Except maybe a phone call, people, sheesh, would it kill ya?