The other day I encountered a friend I don't see often (all right. I was actually hunting down my square casserole dish and favorite paring knife which had, mysteriously enough, wandered out of my care, and I was hell bent on pestering every person who could possibly know where to find them until I, well, found them. Lucky for her and me, this friend found them in her kitchen). We had a lovely little chat about loneliness.
Just the night before, I had uncharacteristically had the oddest aversion to being in my home, because no one else was there. Usually I relish moments where I have the house to myself, glad to hum nonsense diddies or gustily belt show tunes with no one to mock me. But this occasion was different. I felt a keen sense of loss since my roommate's recent departure, and the other housemates were gone for the weekend. The forlorn feeling was compounded by a foreboding feeling of distance from my dearest friend. We hadn't had any good talks for some time, and I was afraid that even if she had been home to share the evening, we might still have not exactly connected.
Completely unbeknownst to me, across town, the friend who it turned out was harboring the AWOL dish and knife, was feeling similar emotions. We both had felt like there was no one to call to go hang out with because surely by late on a Saturday evening, everyone would already be out doing stuff and we'd be intruding. It made me wonder, how often do we resist reaching out to others for fear that they wouldn't need or want what we could offer? Instead, we self-centeredly wallow in isolated loneliness. [Editor's note: that night did have a happy ending--both girls ended up finding friends with whom it was perfectly fine to jump into the evening-already-in-progress, they just realized that they never thought to call each other, both assuming the other was too popular to take note of the first, and they thereby made a pact to call the other should ever a similar scenario develop.]
In addition to loneliness, we also had a great talk about the friends we've chosen--and been chosen by--in the last few years. As I think back on who I was when I first came to college and set it against who I am today, the contrast is striking. I'm certainly not all grown up nor do I have things particularly figured out, but I have moved on a little further, I think. The ideas and attitudes I have now have been shaped in large part by the circle of friends with whom I share life. In discussing friends, we decided that if only even one variable had been different--if even just one friend had not been there, or a different one had been in one's place--we would be different girls. Perhaps vastly different.
It was good to ponder who's shaped us, and humbling to think that perhaps we've been the shapers some of the time.
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4 comments:
Wow. Some people do way overthink life. Relax, don't try to "shape" things too much, you never know what you'll be responsible for later on. Chill sister.
The unexamined life is not worth living. ~Socrates
I think it is good to reflect and think about who surrounds my life, as well as the effect I'm having on those people. And perhaps those of us who lean toward the melancholic temperament are more prone to do this.
I think perhaps Anonymous needs to think more about how interconnected life is, rather than just keep his head in books or on biking trails.
If a person is going to reflect and analyze the effect they have in shaping other people, then he/she had damn better be ready to take responsibility when they do dumb things that influence other people (i.e. drink, cuss, flirt, seduce).
Enjoy your life worth living!
insolent, cowardly ass.
yes, part of examining our life is looking at what we have not done well, learning from those things as well as when we have excelled at life.
although, i must admit, sometimes it is hard for me to accept the responsibility of waking from a drunken stupor next to the person i happened to seduce the night before. usually, i just say, "f---!"
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