[432] Appetizers Over Friends

I think I prefer appetizers over friends.

This could be a way of stating my general “loner” sentiments. It could be the wave of “not even 4 months later I'mliving the fallout” of one of my last blogs about my disposition reverting people back to cattle. I think it's partly me being unable to find proper blame for the stress of conceiving of having them or what I'm supposed to mean to them. Appetizers are simple. You eat them. I go to the bar and grab a cheese quesadilla, maybe bring a book if I don't have articles lined up on my phone, and go to work.

I think a large part of my problem is constantly feeling like I'm not “doing enough.” One of the loudest criticisms I have about people is their habit of moving very independent of their willingness to look at the larger picture. They move for superficial reasons. They think...they don't think. It's enough for them to have a “passion” or carefree hippie attitude or accept clichés and certain kinds of stress as normal. I don't want to be in a group of obscure passionate people who pretends to have some secret figured out as I travel the country holding protest signs. I don't want to adopt a Freudian level of ego as I barrel down the road to a doctorate, particularly in psychology.

I blame myself. But that alone doesn't seem to mean anything. I feel like the fat guy who knows it's his decision to eat unhealthily and not move. Yes, every day he makes a choice. The days where he chooses to walk, his knees are killing him. They days where he chooses to eat healthy, the crowd at the other end of the room is calling him names. I can't know what the well-wishing or positive endorsements from other people mean to a fat guy, but if they were talking to me, it'd be reduced to a very superficial appreciation. A thumbs up or a good day aren't an accepting or motivating general environment.

It feels like a problem of what we're supposed to ask of our perspective. I claim that I feel certain obligations. It's once in a blue moon I get to express myself in service to those obligations. If I plan to meet you for lunch, you can practically take it for granted I'm showing up. You invite me to your one man show, I can see on facebook that I, and whomever I brought, were often the only 2 who “found the time.”

But say I take the obligations further. It was almost a throwaway comment in high school for me to say that I was the “therapist” for most of my friends. Whether they were talking to other people or not wasn't really my concern, I just had enough routinely unload their struggles that the comparison felt fair at the time. While I certainly couldn't “fix them,” I tried my best to persuade you suicide wasn't the answer or verbal and physical abuse wasn't love. I didn't drink in high school and so of course would take you home from a party.

It might be more easily conceived where feelings of mattering-to-someone would manifest in that environment. You're thrust into a situation of immature fledglings daily. Move on to college, it's close, but people get their own spaces and disappear into their specific departments or hit that “find a mate at all costs” mindset. They also, for whatever reason, find it in them to get insanely resentful of what you're offering. So, you're obligations get a little looser, perhaps in the realm of ensuring someone gets drunk, can crash on the couch, or you'll definitely split the morning after pill costs.

I think I feel something of an erosion. It's not uniform across everyone I know. I think it's where people claim the bullshit of “growing up.” I don't even know if it has to do particularly with friendships or just the general cultural air. I persistently feel like I can't rely on anything.

If you've felt the same, and you're one of my friends, the best I can do is offer what I constantly try to speak to. You've got a place to stay, I'll get you drunk, I'll refrain from giving you shit about something you're doing that is probably stupid, and I'll at least offer to include you in what I'm trying to do. But you should know, trying is getting exhausting. Whether it's asking for an hour or 2 every month or so or even ten minutes in a facebook conversation, I'm often shuffled back into my little void.

It's weird because I consider myself one of the most selfish people I know. I do things in my way, on my time, for my reasons, and it usually doesn't care about steamrolling weaker or less thought out ideas. It's only ever tripped up when you try to include people. It doesn't even seem right to use a word like “blame.” Just scroll through the list of excuses you've been thinking about as to why someone is busy.

I've argued in the past that I'm happy of only being contacted or engaged with when someone needed something from me. At least then things are clear. But it was only until I injected myself into the “normal” realm where people claim to be close or friends regardless that I found stress and confusion. If you told me you don't give a shit about my movie nights or bowling or especially acting “irresponsibly childish” by hitting the bar, I'd be in a much happier place. If you thought me sharing ideas about the books I read or organizations and people I follow is a waste of time or disinteresting, I wouldn't cling even a little to likes or conversations under what I post or think.

I don't want to mindlessly scream at the sports team anymore than I mindlessly attempt to talk with you or share ideas and learn motivations or problems.

I can use my perspective to keep feeling comfortable and like a modern day king. I can use it to arbitrarily learn about things I'll rarely if ever get to talk about. I can use it to shit on everything, which, just really isn't that fun, even if it is the habit. I feel like I just need to use it to better choke down how little I'm needed.

Until you're out on your ass, feeling in a party mood, or remotely concerned with whether or not I can offer solid advice, I'm just kind of a person with too much time on his hands. I don't mean to sound like I'm deliberately ignoring people who do show up or have expressed a fondness for my writing, or that I didn't just get a message about watching a movie while writing this. The message isn't supposed to swing too dramatically in one direction. It's that my personal conception of my utility or place has massively outpaced my ability to provide examples.

I think there's a risk in dropping expectations. I think it was Boy Meets World where Mr. Feeny says true friendship is offering it without any expectations. This is reminiscent of what people have expressed to me about love. While it might do a lot for mitigating frustration, or help bolster the pretend super powers of love, it feels like a woefully unsubstantial thing to say. Many dogs will stay loyal to an abusive owner. To me it's more about adopting fair or informed expectations. I obviously don't blame friends in different states or if they're in grad school for not hanging out.

It's also that I don't have much to focus on besides my relationship to friends to gauge where I'm at. I don't have or need a job, leaving aside one I'd consider worthwhile. I don't even have a plant or animal, let alone a child to keep alive. Whatever shows I watch or books I read I'm sure Kristen is tired of hearing about. I've attempted to suss out organizations, within my capabilities, that do “big work” like The Venus Project, or would love to help out in promoting the Sanders campaign; they're not the best at getting back to you. I perhaps unduly burden people to occupy my time, even if that time is a few hours each month.

It's weird feeling stuck not because of who you are, but because it's a multiplayer game.