Friends & Family

I've been learning a lot about family systems; how the dynamics and relationships within your family affect how you relate to everyone else. Gotta say, it's causing me to feel some real anger toward my family! That's okay, though. I love my family, and I'll work through it. But, man - I thought they were all normal and I was the screw-up! I don't think that anymore.

Meanwhile, I'm growing ever more grateful for my friends, who are some of the coolest people in the world.

I used to say "friends are the family you choose for yourself." But then, I've always had a gift for making really bad choices. I ended up creating a "family" for myself that was ten times more screwed-up than the one I was born into! Go figure...

The friends I have now, I would never have chosen.

Five years ago, I decided that I would never have another roommate. Now I have six - and if someone had lined up a hundred women and told me to pick six I would want to share a house with, these are not the ones I would've picked! But they are the ones I look forward to coming home to at the end of the day; the ones I talk to when things aren't going right and I need help to make sense of the world; the ones I run screaming to when something wonderful and exciting happens.

The rest of my friends are much the same. They don't fit the criteria I once used to choose who I wanted to associate myself with. They don't all look or dress the way I like; they don't all think or speak the way I do; they don't all listen to the "right" music or have the "right" taste in food and films and other essential life things. And yet, I have the coolest friends!

One thing hasn't changed: I used to always hang around with people that I wanted to be like. And I still do.

What do you suppose...?

This text is printed inside the cover of Common Rotation's CD The Big Fear. I have no idea who wrote it, or what kind of narcotic haze it was created from, but I find it intriguing and I hope someday to find a deeper meaning behind this elaborate nonsense. (Feel free to contribute to the effort.)

DON’T be scared.

After all you purchased this record for a mere 19.99 plus tax. At the very least, the ideals you once subscribed to that cajoled you into buying this disc might eventually become a laughable memory. Always chasing the fleet foot of the past, are we? A nation under guaranteed overnight delivery, living in a dream of constant motion rounds the corner to the drugstore on main street for a bigger, more cost efficient sucker for it to let dissolve in its mouth. Too much sugar, too many carbohydrates, you are going to get fat you’re gonna get fat you’re gonna get fat you’re gonna get fat. Eat your supper before it gets cold. WE all want it. Our found out fathers who created art in heaven and their fathers before them wanted their lives, measured out in coffee spoons and stuck in designer gourmet coffee cups with sex on the side. Anxious no not I for another line of unattainable frontiers, a dream of lofty, waspy aspirations for over-paid, over-privileged white children, the pierced eardrum of middle management. Jacob’s ladder teetering on blades, skating across the pond hold it still for a second, could you hold it for me, hold it still damn it, I’m going up. Target your audience, tools on the wagon wheel, cleaver hooks or crescent moons, it’s all in the eye of the napkin, the pencil sharpener, the scantily clad volumes of mangled tourists with intimidating facial hair; sexy. (people that go in for long winded beatnik-type lists of unrelated metaphors conveying one central theme) The stars of the power plant twinkling to nursery rhymes while jukin, the split end fantasy straining to squint at the old knee high, the ol, light box, the ol, 78 trash talk between heaven and/or hell, blue and/or white collar. Extra starch please. Wait. No. No starch. I’m gonna get fat. I can’t get fat and happy. Well, happy; yes. Fat; no No, wait. YOU have to hand it over to the nuclear scientist and say, put wings on this. Proceed to chop your head off and frantically run about Chelsea inventing turmoil for advances in stomach ache and good times. Good times, great coffee. Trust someone to work in the fog of London, the dust of Beirut, in your kid sister’s view from the Brooklyn Bridge. Very much like a Hollywood movie, starring the action hero, your friend produced to make himself some money in order to fund the important low budget film, collaborating with the homeless African-American director awaiting the death row of hospital bed moves. Very much not a movie. This is a movie but it has to bat a thousand eye lashes. So fatten it up no wait. Well you’re right. You got me. A glossy move is not a movement. Yes you hear the choo-choo but no matter how far you travel it’s the same 3 and 2 pitch. It’s a late night infomercial with a new and improved, fool-proof way to masturbate. There, I hope you feel better about yourself. So let’s forget it and return to the sickeningly pretentious list that details the ideal. By omitting this last stanza from the short term and continuing fearlessly into the divine quark of a loophole, we breathe easier while burning more calories.

Inhale, exhale, inhale,

now hold it

It’s too late, you bought it.

All tales are told, all sales are final.

So what are you so afraid of?"

New Year's Eve revisited

Ok, so I thought I had plans for New Year's Eve. I was going to go over to some friends' house and just hang out...no big deal. I talked to one of the guys, my friend Ethan* - the day before, just to make sure - and he said yeah, he'd call me at such-and-such time and come pick me up.

So the next night, New Year's Eve, rolls around. I'd had kind of a bad day and was looking forward to getting out of the house, so I called Ethan to see if he'd come get me a little early. But he wasn't home - he'd gone to another party. So I got on my cell phone to see what's up, and he said he forgot to call me!

(I don't know if the part about forgetting to call me was supposed to make me feel better, but it didn't. I hate being forgotten about. That's what my psycho-ex used to do.)

The thing is, it wasn't even a date! ...Ok, yes, I have a bit of a crush on Ethan and I would've liked it to have been a date, but facts are facts. It was not a date. It was just me going to hang out with some friends. And I spent several weeks being mad about it, and then I decided it was time to let it go. And yet I brought it up again tonight, to another one of his friends, and now I really wish I hadn't. That was just me trying to get sympathy, by talking about something that doesn't really bother me that much anymore. And that's a part of myself that I really don't like.

So to everyone involved, and to everyone who's listened to me harp about this for the last two months - I'm sorry. I'm going to drop it now, I promise.

*Names have been changed.

I Would Do Anything For Love...

But I Won't Do That. What the hell does that song mean, anyway? What is "that"?

One of my roomies is cleaning the kitchen and listening to Hits of the 90s, and that's the song that just came on. We both cracked up.

I remember being in college, full of intensity and earnestness, listening to that song and singing along with tears in my eyes. Now I listen to it and just laugh...I think I'll always like that song now, just for the memories it evokes. I've actually been tripping down that particular stretch of Memory Lane a lot lately. College...

God, if I had known then what I know now - well, I don't know what would've happened. Probably some tragic butterfly-effect series of events that would cause me to realize that everything happens when it happens for a reason, and that I had to travel the road I've traveled in order to come to where I am now and be content. Some kind of nonsense like that. But it's an enticing thought - if I'd only known then what I know now...

I seem to go through periods of nostalgia. Does everyone do that? I'll go for months or years and never really think about times gone by, and then suddenly I find myself overwhelmed by fond memories, and off I go down the road of reminiscence once again.

I recently got back in touch with my college sweetheart - the love of my life, though I didn't know it at the time (see, that's what I'm talking about - hindsight, man.) We're friends now, and it's good to be back in touch with someone who's known me since way back when. Talking to him helps me remember that no matter how far I've come since then, I'm still me.

Truth be told, I'm grateful for the distance I've traveled since college. It was a good time, but I like where I am now. So, I guess...I would do anything for love, but I won't go back.

All the same - Kenny, this one's for you. Thanks for the memories!

Alison*

She's not an easy person to get to know. At least she wasn't for me.

I had a hard time getting along with her at first. I think I was intimidated by her, or maybe some instinctive part of me recognized her as someone very similar to myself, and so immediately categorized her as "competition." I've always had a tendency to compare myself to others, and lack of self-esteem has caused me to view anyone very much like me as a threat.

I am very competitive with Alison in a lot of areas: within the dynamics of our house, and within our mutual circle of friends. We are similar in age, and our jobs are comparable. We've had similar experiences in the past year, and I think we have a lot of the same strengths, and a lot of the same weaknesses.

Because of some of the things we have in common, Alison and I have been spending more time together recently. As I've gotten to know her a little better, I've come to really admire her. Ali is a very strong woman who treats herself and the people around her with kindness, dignity, and respect. Where I used to compare myself to her and feel threatened, I now look at what she and I have in common and feel thankful.

She has had some really good things happening in her life lately. Not too long ago, I would've been jealous. Now, I'm just happy for her. Everything good that's happened is something she deserves, and most of it is long overdue.

The women I live with are all my family. The relationships between each of us are different, and they're constantly changing. But I've often felt that Alison is more like a sister to me than any of the others - there's that weird blend of affection and rivalry. And now there's friendship, and a trust that I haven't felt for a while (not since the last roommate I was close to moved out.)

Ali - Thanks for everything. I'm so glad to have you as a friend and a sister. I love you!

*Names have been changed.

Late-Night Frustrations

I have no idea what to do with what I feel right now.

I feel lonely, and isolated, and trapped, and frightened.

I feel guilty for feeling lonely, and for wanting to cry. I feel like I don't have a good enough reason to cry; after all, I have friends - real friends, not the "friends" who disappeared on me a year ago, when I decided to leave the party. I am surrounded by people who care about me, and who are there for me when I need them, and when I screw up. I am deeply grateful for these people.

And yet, I'm not as close to any of them as I would like to be. I have intimacy issues; many friends but few, if any, close friends. I would very much like to change that, but I don't know how, and I'm frustrated and lonely.

I'm also angry, and I want to blame someone for the way I feel, but there is no one to blame. I want someone to come along and fix it, but there is no one who can fix it. My tendency is to blame myself for keeping everyone at arm's length, but I know that I am doing the best I can for right now.

I am also tired, and it is late; I'm sure that once I've had a good night's sleep things will look brighter. That's almost always how it works, with me.

The Cat House

I share a house with six other women.

Generally when I say that to people, the response I get is one of incredulity - "How can you stand that?" - "I couldn't do it." - "That would drive me crazy." (What they don't realize is that I was crazy to start with. Maybe this will drive me sane.)

It's not for everyone; it takes a certain kind of person to be able to live in a situation like this. And yes, there are times when it grates. Seven women, seven sets of hormones and issues and neuroses. Seven periods, usually within about a week of each other. There are times when personalities clash, when boundaries are crossed, and feelings are hurt. There were times in the beginning when I wondered what I'd gotten myself into. But I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world, now.

This is more than a house that I share with a bunch of roommates. This is our home. This is a family.

For the women who share this house with me, and who have become my sisters and my support system, I am more thankful than I can say. This site is dedicated to them, with love and gratitude.