Sick Of Me Yet?
Welp, here we are. The obligatory end-of-the-year look back in anguish blog post that I always can't help but to crank out in an attempt to purge myself spanking clean before the start of the new year, but I promise I'll keep it short and relatively un-dramatic. If any particular theme ran true in all my post this past year, brevity, not necessarily of wit, was definitely the soul of it. And I'm sorry about that. As the useless brain cells start to shrivel and flake away at this age the gift of elocution becomes increasingly less.... er, uh... less... yeah. Uh, well. Maybe it's best to only pay attention to the words I'm not saying. They're less open to interpretation these days than the ones that I actually do.
And for once, there were probably too many predominant themes to this year to chose one overall. But I'll go for the one that probably counts the most, and that's my finally learning, gradually, to overcome a lot of my shyness and social reticence and let people back into my life once again. The last year was tough, especially losing someone (in a sense) that I connected with so strongly I began to doubt if I'd ever find another friend that close and meaningful again. My entire life, I have always had difficulty making close friends. Childhood was awkward, but considerably easier compared to adolescence, when puberty divided me from the rest of my peer group and I suddenly discovered that I really didn't have much in common with most of the girls -- and later, women -- that I met throughout my life. But I don't fault other people. I believe it to be 110% myself and my habitual solitary nature of feeling like an outcast since childhood that has kept me from adopting the normal routes of socialization that makes me connect deeply to other people. In other words, people do seem to sorta like me. But they don't ever really get to know me, apparently. Or that's what my former boss who, God love her, was the first person to sit me down one day and explain it all to me in ways that I would beg other people to lay out for me for as long as I could remember. And what she said was true; I don't socialize much. I don't let on to what I'm thinking or feeling, or take initiative to open a conversation. I tend to steer away from groups rather than to insert myself and stake my claim in the conversation. In the past, I was told to my face, point blank, not to do that. Go away, this doesn't concern you. And that rejection always haunts me, and colors the way I socialize in public. The internet is one thing, although I still carry a lot of that insecure baggage here as well. I feel like the odd woman out in many message boards, newsgroups, and social organizations where despite finally getting to converse with people I have something in common with, I probably still come off as the aloof and distant contributor in some manner. And even if I didn't, I'd still fear I would be. I have met a few very lovely people that I connect with via the web, and for them I am grateful. God knows what kind of woman I'd be today if I had such an invention as a kid to get me through those long, awkward phases. Although maybe we all need to go through those coming-of-age phases without such a crutch or else get eaten alive in the real world. Maybe it's a good thing I was thrown into the deep end to learn to swim while I still could.
But anyway, this year I made a private resolution to try and open myself as much as I could to the possibility of making friends with the living once again, and I... I think it's beginning to take. I started out doing what I normally don't do, which is accepting invitations to parties from the girls at work. Never much of a traditional party-er, me. With S. and those guys a party usually consisted of no booze but lots of inspired insanity, like driving out during city-wide blackouts and videotaping customers at late-night Denny's eating in the dark. Parties with the kids these days really does seem to consist of beer, and all the ways it can be consumed, while remaining as sedentary as possible while it happens. Plus I might add the nearly 20-year age gap between myself and a majority of my co-workers, who listen to 80's music with a sense of wistful irony while I hear it and cringe, actually remembering the party I was at the very year that 80's music came out. But you know, I learned by doing this how much I really do enjoy these kids, and really have come to love them over time. And that's the underlying frustration in all of this: I long to love people. I crave to connect with someone. I want it so bad sometimes it burns a hole right through me. But there's that issue. That social barrier that I need to overcome. And despite the parties, despite the fleeting moments of inspired insanity, I still feel on the outside, wanting in.
This year I have started accepting invitations to weekly Sunday breakfasts with Mike and Al, two people I have known for going on almost two decades, but through them I am meeting some wonderful new people who also attend these get-togethers. Almost all of whom are between their 40's and 50's so I'm the "kid" in this scenario for a change. But nearly all have been involved in the local music or arts scene in some form or fashion to where we have something in common, know a lot of the same people, attended the same functions, and quite frankly can actually carry on a conversation about The Buzzcocks as opposed to Fall Out Boy for a refreshing change of pace. And I look forward to those Sundays. To the time spent with these people, every one of which I love to pieces. And I still can't tell if I have developed that connection with all of them, but part of all this is to open myself up again to real-life friendships and flesh-n-blood interactions, the way it used to be before circumstances made me more a slave to the internet where my obvious awkward shortcomings are not quite as crippling. I would like for things to be the way they were, pre-internet era, where I went out more and socialized and didn't care if I was making a good impression because I was too busy having the time of my life with the most terrific people on the planet. Now I have met some truly terrific people again. Now I am hoping this new year not only brings out the best of me... but if anything, brings me out as well. Out of the house, that is. :)
Speaking of which, I have been invited to a New Years Eve party at Hunter's house this year with the rest of the breakfast gang (all except for Mike, whose band is playing Thumpers in Elizabeth City, NC tomorrow night), so I'm baking cookies and bringing the pinot noir. Jeepers. Probably my first actual New Years Eve party since I rang in 1996 with S. all those years ago.
It's true I'll never find another good friend as close to my own soul as she. And missing her is, I've told myself, perfectly okay. But letting it happen over again with another bunch of equally great people is like opening a fresh new chapter in my life, and I'm all about the whole fresh new chapter idea in a big way. Hopefully once I get past that persistent social barrier, I can hope they mind like to have me around as much I like having them around as well.
Anyhoo, all I can say is that so far this New Years is considerably better than the strep I had last year. Here's to a strep-free year to everyone! NO STREP! I command you all!!!
And for once, there were probably too many predominant themes to this year to chose one overall. But I'll go for the one that probably counts the most, and that's my finally learning, gradually, to overcome a lot of my shyness and social reticence and let people back into my life once again. The last year was tough, especially losing someone (in a sense) that I connected with so strongly I began to doubt if I'd ever find another friend that close and meaningful again. My entire life, I have always had difficulty making close friends. Childhood was awkward, but considerably easier compared to adolescence, when puberty divided me from the rest of my peer group and I suddenly discovered that I really didn't have much in common with most of the girls -- and later, women -- that I met throughout my life. But I don't fault other people. I believe it to be 110% myself and my habitual solitary nature of feeling like an outcast since childhood that has kept me from adopting the normal routes of socialization that makes me connect deeply to other people. In other words, people do seem to sorta like me. But they don't ever really get to know me, apparently. Or that's what my former boss who, God love her, was the first person to sit me down one day and explain it all to me in ways that I would beg other people to lay out for me for as long as I could remember. And what she said was true; I don't socialize much. I don't let on to what I'm thinking or feeling, or take initiative to open a conversation. I tend to steer away from groups rather than to insert myself and stake my claim in the conversation. In the past, I was told to my face, point blank, not to do that. Go away, this doesn't concern you. And that rejection always haunts me, and colors the way I socialize in public. The internet is one thing, although I still carry a lot of that insecure baggage here as well. I feel like the odd woman out in many message boards, newsgroups, and social organizations where despite finally getting to converse with people I have something in common with, I probably still come off as the aloof and distant contributor in some manner. And even if I didn't, I'd still fear I would be. I have met a few very lovely people that I connect with via the web, and for them I am grateful. God knows what kind of woman I'd be today if I had such an invention as a kid to get me through those long, awkward phases. Although maybe we all need to go through those coming-of-age phases without such a crutch or else get eaten alive in the real world. Maybe it's a good thing I was thrown into the deep end to learn to swim while I still could.
But anyway, this year I made a private resolution to try and open myself as much as I could to the possibility of making friends with the living once again, and I... I think it's beginning to take. I started out doing what I normally don't do, which is accepting invitations to parties from the girls at work. Never much of a traditional party-er, me. With S. and those guys a party usually consisted of no booze but lots of inspired insanity, like driving out during city-wide blackouts and videotaping customers at late-night Denny's eating in the dark. Parties with the kids these days really does seem to consist of beer, and all the ways it can be consumed, while remaining as sedentary as possible while it happens. Plus I might add the nearly 20-year age gap between myself and a majority of my co-workers, who listen to 80's music with a sense of wistful irony while I hear it and cringe, actually remembering the party I was at the very year that 80's music came out. But you know, I learned by doing this how much I really do enjoy these kids, and really have come to love them over time. And that's the underlying frustration in all of this: I long to love people. I crave to connect with someone. I want it so bad sometimes it burns a hole right through me. But there's that issue. That social barrier that I need to overcome. And despite the parties, despite the fleeting moments of inspired insanity, I still feel on the outside, wanting in.
This year I have started accepting invitations to weekly Sunday breakfasts with Mike and Al, two people I have known for going on almost two decades, but through them I am meeting some wonderful new people who also attend these get-togethers. Almost all of whom are between their 40's and 50's so I'm the "kid" in this scenario for a change. But nearly all have been involved in the local music or arts scene in some form or fashion to where we have something in common, know a lot of the same people, attended the same functions, and quite frankly can actually carry on a conversation about The Buzzcocks as opposed to Fall Out Boy for a refreshing change of pace. And I look forward to those Sundays. To the time spent with these people, every one of which I love to pieces. And I still can't tell if I have developed that connection with all of them, but part of all this is to open myself up again to real-life friendships and flesh-n-blood interactions, the way it used to be before circumstances made me more a slave to the internet where my obvious awkward shortcomings are not quite as crippling. I would like for things to be the way they were, pre-internet era, where I went out more and socialized and didn't care if I was making a good impression because I was too busy having the time of my life with the most terrific people on the planet. Now I have met some truly terrific people again. Now I am hoping this new year not only brings out the best of me... but if anything, brings me out as well. Out of the house, that is. :)
Speaking of which, I have been invited to a New Years Eve party at Hunter's house this year with the rest of the breakfast gang (all except for Mike, whose band is playing Thumpers in Elizabeth City, NC tomorrow night), so I'm baking cookies and bringing the pinot noir. Jeepers. Probably my first actual New Years Eve party since I rang in 1996 with S. all those years ago.
It's true I'll never find another good friend as close to my own soul as she. And missing her is, I've told myself, perfectly okay. But letting it happen over again with another bunch of equally great people is like opening a fresh new chapter in my life, and I'm all about the whole fresh new chapter idea in a big way. Hopefully once I get past that persistent social barrier, I can hope they mind like to have me around as much I like having them around as well.
Anyhoo, all I can say is that so far this New Years is considerably better than the strep I had last year. Here's to a strep-free year to everyone! NO STREP! I command you all!!!
posted by Melissa at 6:52 PM
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