May. 21st, 2003
Friendship  
I find myself thinking about the transient nature of relationships — I don't just mean as in boyfriends but even friendships. In our fraternity, you'd often get closer to someone, only to have them get a girlfriend and then fade from existence, as if the friendships he'd made meant nothing. Not everyone did that, of course, but more than one. I swore I'd never do that.

At school, best friends were discarded and like old socks. Every semester, people moved in and out of the dorms like the changing of the guard. And at the end of every academic year, after bidding a tearful fair well to friends, swearing you'd keep in touch. Of course, that lasted a few weeks until new friendships were forged with the new residents down the hall, and next door. In truth, I could have kept in better contact with several friends I did hold throughout the years. Unfortunately somewhere in my excitement in my decision to come out, and leave San Diego for L.A., they were all forgotten.

Then there was coming out. GayLand, where everyone, you were told, was so supportive you referred to each other as "family".

[pause for interminable laughter]

Friendships in this land seem volatile at best. I find myself realizing that, while I have lots of friends, some of them I would call close friends with whom I share fears and secrets with, I've been lacking a best friend for some time — that person who you're always with, the person serendipity brings you together with; the person when you're not with him/her, people ask, "where's [insert name here]?". It's not something to which I'm all that accustomed to being without.

I've observed for the most part, that most of the friends in my circle are very independent. On any given night of going out, there will be a group of us. We usually arrive separately and often by coincidence — especially when there's a party. Never knowing who might be on (or not on) the given evite list for that night, calls could risk hurt feelings. It often feels as if the cast of characters for a given day or evening are often replaceable. I don't think it's really like that, but when you're hanging out and chatting with 10-20+ friends, people are often forgotten. When you do remember, "oh where's x?" You decide you'll call in a second when someone else comes up. Ooops. Forgotten.

I don't think I'm the only one who feels this way. I've had similar conversations with others. And I just don't seem to notice many pairs of best friends anymore. We hang out. We have fun. Shit, we have a lot of fun. But where are the real connections? Why is it that people move away, and our lives seem to go on without a hitch? We stay busy, we hang out, we club, we go to parties. It just seems that what we're doing all seem to be ways to occupy time but not hearts.

I want more.
 
 
Mood: contemplative
Listening to: The Cranberries - Daffodil Lament
 
 
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SoCalDummysocaldummy on May 22nd, 2003 - 05:33 pm
D-I-T-T-O.

(Incidentally, that's probably the most meaningful comment I've ever wrote. Heh.)
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SoCalDummysocaldummy on May 22nd, 2003 - 05:36 pm
... or written even :-P Doooooh :-(
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asindreams on May 23rd, 2003 - 12:45 am
how to live in a modern world
I think it's partly the modern encouragement of diversification. Further, it's the modern trend of not trusting any one person enough to place the word "best" on them. It's not trusting ourselves enough to devote energy to one thing, convinced in a thoroughly post-modern fashion that everything devolves, that all is an entropy. That it's going to be fucked anyway, so spread out the care, spread the love thin almost until it breaks, so not one bit too much is given to any one person.

I'm an existentialist, so I see everyone as alone anyway. However, my own weird little twist is that we're all alone, but we're all together in that isolation. Under that paradigm, I've found a couple "best" friends.

Good luck with your contemplation. :)
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