I've been reflective about friendships lately. For the most part this is a natural occurrence because of the fact I spent the weekend with quite a few of those I call friends. I've rather stepped out of my norm (established early in life) and thrown most of my friendship eggs in the same basket. I cannot say that my thoughts have been particularly good or particularly bad. I suppose in all honesty, some from column A and some from column B. I have not been exactly happy or sad when thinking, but thinking I've been doing [I'm a tad discouraged, by the way, that I have this tendency to use contractions... I will try to overcome from this point on.... doh, and ending in prepositions... I am back sliding!] So, where was I?
Ah, the evolution of my friendships....
I was pretty much a loner in my early years. I was raised by a very over-protective mother who also had a heavy spattering of superstition. I played alone. I had lots of imaginary friends. [Batman was my favorite, and also who I wanted to marry when I grew up... and now that I think about it, I do not know that my standards have changed all that much.] When my brother came along, we played together, but I mostly remember solo play.
I did not go to Sunday school or preschool, or anything. No outside contact. Not until I was six and starting public school for the first time. I was in first grade. Since I had never been acclimated to people, it was assumed I was an imbecile , so I was put in the dummy class (this was allowed in these days, and I can say this guilt free, because everyone in that class was held back that year). I do not remember making friends in that class. I remember hating the teacher. I also remember the girl sitting in front of me. She had a side ponytail that was curly (my hair was always straight) that I thought was cute, but her voice annoyed me. At the time, I was certain this was the dumbest person on the planet. I did not desire to befriend anyone.
Fortunately, I was moved when they realized I could read, and my first legit friend in the whole wide world was paired with me to catch me up to speed. Her name was Becky, and I've written of her before. She was the first in a long line of friend-ishes.
My friend-ishes were the people who I developed fast and close friendships with when I was around them. If we had a class together, if we were on the same team, later on, if our husbands or boyfriends were friends, etc. However, these friendships did not span the realm of me seeking them out to talk to or be around. I am not certain if this was a flaw in me or them, or if it was just a thing, but that is what it was. Anytime I was around these friends, I really did like them, and I really did enjoy it, but if I did not see them again for three years, I did not lose sleep. Writing it all out, I feel like I was just a crappy person. I had my reasons though, that might come out before my laundry is dry and my word well is empty.
This was the only type of friend I had through elementary school and into middle school. Once in middle school, things got ugly for me. That is just a wretched time for anyone. Hormones kick in and tweens and teens press the limits of acceptable behavior. People become out for blood, and an ill spoken word can ruin your life. I see this all the time when I work in the school. I do believe that if I ruled the educational world, middle school and junior high would be a forced academic sabbatical. But that is not where I was going with this today...
At the end of my sixth grade year, I made my first friend. April was fun and carefree and most importantly, non judgmental. She did not make fun of me for any of the things I liked (reading, music, video games, dorky stuff... I'm not so different). Turned out her grandma lived close to me and so through proximity we became fast friends. We talked on the phone. I could tell her my problems. She listened and gave me advice, and I did the same for her. We had "boyfriends" that were parts of the same groups (we liked the skater boys, what can I say) and hung out on the weekends.
Maybe the bad thing about April was that she was my only friend. So when serious boyfriends started happening around high school, our friendship suffered. Also, academically, we were polar opposites, so we did not have any of the same school schedules or clubs or anything like that. Turned out that those separations took their toll, and we drifted apart.
I fell in with people in my classes and clubs. We had nice friendships, but they remained at school. More friend-ishes. I suppose, in reflection, I just did not want to put forth any effort. For the most part though, it was enough. I did not ever remember feeling like I needed a friend and did not have one. [Am I the only one beginning to think I might have been a bit egotistical?]
The summer before my junior year, I met who would become my first FRIEND. The CAPS are important, because she deserves distinction. Oddly enough, if I had been having these thoughts and writing this journal a year ago, she would have been in the friend category with April. Now is not the time to write about that, but perhaps one day I will explain all that. Either way, we met in East Tennessee. We became fast friends, and the distance did not stop it. That should be viewed as even more remarkable since this is in the days before cell phones, Internet and social networking sites.
When I was married, I had lots of hisfriends. These were all people I liked well enough, and they seemed to like me, but we all knew that if we removed the tie that binds, they would not be there for me. Not too far into the marriage, I also found myself without my two friends. For the former, our lifestyles were so drastically different at this point in our lives, we could be nothing more than friend-ishes anymore. The latter, well, she just sort of disappeared. I did not know why for many years, but I always assumed it was something I did wrong.
Operating on that assumption and my learned distrust of people, I decided (unconsciously) that the best avenue for me was one of no friends. They were high maintenance and backstabbing usually anyway. So for the next several years, I did just that. It was not until the end of that time that I really started to miss that which I did not have. In some cases, I could even say that which I had never had.
Then that brings me full circle to the present. As baffling as it seems to me, I have lots of FRIENDS. I have friends that invite me over (repeatedly) and friends that call or text just to say hey. I have friends who listen to my problems and friends who tell me theirs. I have friends who remember my birthday and friends who do not write me off when I forget theirs. At this point, it is still overwhelming to me. When I have down times, that small old voice whispers "this is it, you've run your course again", but I am beginning to think, perhaps, this time, I really have not run my course.
...I can call you Betty, and Betty when you call me, you can call me Al.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Monday, April 19, 2010
I have no lid upon my head
but if I did, you could look inside and see what's on my mind.
And the past few days it's been potential. For good or bad, I see potential in everything. That's not to say I have a Pollyanna outlook; far from it, actually. I do not always see things as potentially good or potentially bad. In fact, most times my potential is not given a qualifier at all. I just see that maybe, at some point down the road, this could be necessary... potentially.
My visions of potential usefulness are certainly what drive my pack rat tendencies. I cannot throw anything away without scouring every possible avenue of benefit it might first have. I still own clothes I had when I was younger than my children. There is not anything that uses electricity at school that is discarded without first going through me. It kills my soul to throw away something that might still have an ounce of use (potential).
I see this in children, too. I see tons of babies and toddlers and preschoolers who to me have loads of potential. At each moment, it seems to me, they have this, oh let's not say window, but more of a halo of opportunity... of potential. For just a glimmer of a moment, that child truly can become anything. Then things happen, society, family, friends... and they expand or contract the circle of potential. Sometimes it is things that are grossly unfair, like deadbeat parents, or random acts of violence. Sometimes it is just a thing, like a genetic abnormality that expands the potential.
I suppose this is the one that plagues my thoughts the most lately. I work around all these children who seem to have tons of potential, and I watch all these things go on that stack the decks against them, lessening their potential before it is even realized. It frustrates me to see neglectful parents or non compassionate society turn their backs on theses beautiful bundles of potential. Do they not realize what they are messing with?
I remember this when I first realized I was pregnant with Matthew. I was seventeen when this idea of potential hit me full in the chest. Right then, I knew that everything I would do from that point forward would affect, not only mine, but another human being's potential. It was both thrilling and terrifying to consider. It was then, I think, somewhere back in the far recesses of my mind that I decided to become a full out potential champion. (I did not name myself such... I maybe coined that phrase just now.)
At this point in my life, some fifteen years later, that is what I do every day. I cannot say I am especially good at it, or even have any successes to write about, but I try. I see potential in things. I see potential in people, and whatever I can do, I try to bring it out, try to help it along.... try to do something.
And the past few days it's been potential. For good or bad, I see potential in everything. That's not to say I have a Pollyanna outlook; far from it, actually. I do not always see things as potentially good or potentially bad. In fact, most times my potential is not given a qualifier at all. I just see that maybe, at some point down the road, this could be necessary... potentially.
My visions of potential usefulness are certainly what drive my pack rat tendencies. I cannot throw anything away without scouring every possible avenue of benefit it might first have. I still own clothes I had when I was younger than my children. There is not anything that uses electricity at school that is discarded without first going through me. It kills my soul to throw away something that might still have an ounce of use (potential).
I see this in children, too. I see tons of babies and toddlers and preschoolers who to me have loads of potential. At each moment, it seems to me, they have this, oh let's not say window, but more of a halo of opportunity... of potential. For just a glimmer of a moment, that child truly can become anything. Then things happen, society, family, friends... and they expand or contract the circle of potential. Sometimes it is things that are grossly unfair, like deadbeat parents, or random acts of violence. Sometimes it is just a thing, like a genetic abnormality that expands the potential.
I suppose this is the one that plagues my thoughts the most lately. I work around all these children who seem to have tons of potential, and I watch all these things go on that stack the decks against them, lessening their potential before it is even realized. It frustrates me to see neglectful parents or non compassionate society turn their backs on theses beautiful bundles of potential. Do they not realize what they are messing with?
I remember this when I first realized I was pregnant with Matthew. I was seventeen when this idea of potential hit me full in the chest. Right then, I knew that everything I would do from that point forward would affect, not only mine, but another human being's potential. It was both thrilling and terrifying to consider. It was then, I think, somewhere back in the far recesses of my mind that I decided to become a full out potential champion. (I did not name myself such... I maybe coined that phrase just now.)
At this point in my life, some fifteen years later, that is what I do every day. I cannot say I am especially good at it, or even have any successes to write about, but I try. I see potential in things. I see potential in people, and whatever I can do, I try to bring it out, try to help it along.... try to do something.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
it was just another night with a sunset
and a moonrise not so far behind...
...and I was driving home last Saturday from Nashville. At this point in my week, I'd driven some twenty-two hours. I do not say that as a complaint. I rather enjoy driving. I happily commute thirty miles to work each day, and 150 to seminary at least once per week. (I wanted to say once a week, but that seemed redneck?) I intentionally planned a roadtrip with my children for spring break last week. I like driving.
It is, for me, a sort of mini sabbatical from things. I put my iPhone on random and crank up the volume. I reflect on my day. I do my deep thinking. I make plans. I daydream. I sing loudly off key.
It was not until this Saturday that I realized how key my background music was to this whole process. On this particular Saturday, not long after I used my iPhone to find a Chinese buffet, (Yes, there's an app for that... you're SO original for thinking that.) my battery died. I used my phone lots that day to pass the time, but I thought I had my charger with me. Turns out I did not, but there was nothing to be done about it at this point. I also forgot my purse that held the bulk of my cash, my driver's licence and my debit cards.
Somehow I got off on a tangent.
It's okay though, I mean, I lived just fine for years without an iPhone. (and apps, and facebook, and texting my friends, and instant google searching at my fingertips...) So, I sat in the parking lot, full of General Tso's chicken and tried to remember the way back to the interstate. After a few minutes reflection and my subsequent recollection of my terrible sense of direction, I decided the best bet would be to ask someone for directions. (Normally here, I'd use the GPS on my iPhone.) I asked random guys in an old thunderbird with t-tops. They told me true, and even though I was a bit nervous until I made my way back to I-24, it worked out.
After that, I settled back to move down the open road. A few minutes in, the silence killed me. I grabbed my daughter's iPod, but her tastes run too different from mine, and I could not reach my state of being that I normally fall into when driving. I gave up and decided it was a day for retro (I mean, I had just talked to guys in a t-bird.) and turned on the radio. I surfed through talk radio, some sort of sports commentary, and settled on what appeared to be an '80's station. It was fitting, and I belted for a bit along to Journey, Bon Jovi, and even Warrant.
However, after the Who and a song from Tommy, I was tired of commercial breaks and not funny DJ's. I longed for my random selection of Jamie approved music. It did not much matter though, I was not getting it, and I could not find an adult alternative station that would likely supply that which was fuel for my most recent of moods.
It was enough, though, to get me thinking. I thought about how accessible things are now. I sort of began to realize how much I take things for granted. Also, it seems that with the ease of everything, there is not much room for wonder or magic. (I wish I could think of a better word here, but none are forthcoming.)
You know, years ago, if I had a thought, say, about a bird or a tree or something I saw while out, then I would visit a library, or go and talk to people who maybe knew people and find things out. Or maybe even, I would not find things out until years later, when someone somewhere completely unrelated would say something resulting in an a-ha moment for me. But now, I immediately pull out my iPhone and google whatever popped in my head, and voila, I have an answer.
Likewise, I could not wait for events that would reunite me with friends who I did not get to see every day at school or work. Now, with texting and cell phones, I can talk to all of them all the time. I never have to wait to tell someone something... as soon as the thought pops in my mind, I pick up my phone and text or call, no matter how pointless the thought I want to share. (Guess what song just came up on random?! Yes, I've done that.)
There's no wait time. Instant gratification for practically everything all the time (Was I redundant here?). And as much as I enjoy it, take advantage of it even, I think, I thought, on that drive home, that it makes me sad a little bit. Were things perhaps better in a time when there was more room for wonder and less necessity for knowledge about everything? Is nothing worth the wait anymore? I remember that joy I would feel when my favorite song was finally played on the radio. I even called in the requests sometimes. Now, I navigate immediately to it on my iPhone... my favorite song as soon as I want it, because I made it happen.
I cannot even say how many times I went to reach for my phone on that drive home, either to look something up, to check my facebook, to text someone, or any number of other things that I obviously have a deep habit of doing. Each time, it was humbling. Are all these advances maybe somehow cheating me out of experiences?
In the end, with nothing I could control, I decided to watch the constellations and was recalled to other times I had noticed the stars, in other places, with other people
and it was nice.
...and I was driving home last Saturday from Nashville. At this point in my week, I'd driven some twenty-two hours. I do not say that as a complaint. I rather enjoy driving. I happily commute thirty miles to work each day, and 150 to seminary at least once per week. (I wanted to say once a week, but that seemed redneck?) I intentionally planned a roadtrip with my children for spring break last week. I like driving.
It is, for me, a sort of mini sabbatical from things. I put my iPhone on random and crank up the volume. I reflect on my day. I do my deep thinking. I make plans. I daydream. I sing loudly off key.
It was not until this Saturday that I realized how key my background music was to this whole process. On this particular Saturday, not long after I used my iPhone to find a Chinese buffet, (Yes, there's an app for that... you're SO original for thinking that.) my battery died. I used my phone lots that day to pass the time, but I thought I had my charger with me. Turns out I did not, but there was nothing to be done about it at this point. I also forgot my purse that held the bulk of my cash, my driver's licence and my debit cards.
Somehow I got off on a tangent.
It's okay though, I mean, I lived just fine for years without an iPhone. (and apps, and facebook, and texting my friends, and instant google searching at my fingertips...) So, I sat in the parking lot, full of General Tso's chicken and tried to remember the way back to the interstate. After a few minutes reflection and my subsequent recollection of my terrible sense of direction, I decided the best bet would be to ask someone for directions. (Normally here, I'd use the GPS on my iPhone.) I asked random guys in an old thunderbird with t-tops. They told me true, and even though I was a bit nervous until I made my way back to I-24, it worked out.
After that, I settled back to move down the open road. A few minutes in, the silence killed me. I grabbed my daughter's iPod, but her tastes run too different from mine, and I could not reach my state of being that I normally fall into when driving. I gave up and decided it was a day for retro (I mean, I had just talked to guys in a t-bird.) and turned on the radio. I surfed through talk radio, some sort of sports commentary, and settled on what appeared to be an '80's station. It was fitting, and I belted for a bit along to Journey, Bon Jovi, and even Warrant.
However, after the Who and a song from Tommy, I was tired of commercial breaks and not funny DJ's. I longed for my random selection of Jamie approved music. It did not much matter though, I was not getting it, and I could not find an adult alternative station that would likely supply that which was fuel for my most recent of moods.
It was enough, though, to get me thinking. I thought about how accessible things are now. I sort of began to realize how much I take things for granted. Also, it seems that with the ease of everything, there is not much room for wonder or magic. (I wish I could think of a better word here, but none are forthcoming.)
You know, years ago, if I had a thought, say, about a bird or a tree or something I saw while out, then I would visit a library, or go and talk to people who maybe knew people and find things out. Or maybe even, I would not find things out until years later, when someone somewhere completely unrelated would say something resulting in an a-ha moment for me. But now, I immediately pull out my iPhone and google whatever popped in my head, and voila, I have an answer.
Likewise, I could not wait for events that would reunite me with friends who I did not get to see every day at school or work. Now, with texting and cell phones, I can talk to all of them all the time. I never have to wait to tell someone something... as soon as the thought pops in my mind, I pick up my phone and text or call, no matter how pointless the thought I want to share. (Guess what song just came up on random?! Yes, I've done that.)
There's no wait time. Instant gratification for practically everything all the time (Was I redundant here?). And as much as I enjoy it, take advantage of it even, I think, I thought, on that drive home, that it makes me sad a little bit. Were things perhaps better in a time when there was more room for wonder and less necessity for knowledge about everything? Is nothing worth the wait anymore? I remember that joy I would feel when my favorite song was finally played on the radio. I even called in the requests sometimes. Now, I navigate immediately to it on my iPhone... my favorite song as soon as I want it, because I made it happen.
I cannot even say how many times I went to reach for my phone on that drive home, either to look something up, to check my facebook, to text someone, or any number of other things that I obviously have a deep habit of doing. Each time, it was humbling. Are all these advances maybe somehow cheating me out of experiences?
In the end, with nothing I could control, I decided to watch the constellations and was recalled to other times I had noticed the stars, in other places, with other people
and it was nice.
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