Why I'm awake at 1:30am....
I tend to be a normal sleeper. I rarely wake up and can't get back to sleep. I'm never restless. But I woke up with the most wicked tummy ache and nothing is making it disappear. Ugh. So I created a new blog instead of lay awake in bed until my alarm goes off. And now I’m updating all my web pages i.e. facebook, friendster, etc.... with my new blog address. I try and stay away from those pages as much as possible. It's addictive, adding friends, stalking ex friends and wondering why someone hasn't added you yet. It makes me care about people who are no longer relevant to my life, nor me to theirs. It's just odd...it's uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. Being back home allows me the displeasure of possibly running into people I don't care to see, or even reminiscing about friends who I no longer speak with. It makes me think about the what if.... what if I were to stop by and say hello, what if I were to email them and catch up. But again, that becomes increasingly uncomfortable...the very thought makes me uneasy.
Yet tonight I, in my feverish attempt at avoiding my tummy ache, searched through those very websites and their compiled lists of old friends and ex's of all kinds.... and found myself looking upon the pictures of the very people I sometimes do ache for. When I think of friendship in it's purest form.... or when I reflect upon the really sweet moments of pre-collegiate life, I do think of these girls. And it never ceases to amaze me how once or twice a year I find myself feeling...regretful. I feel envious of those who are a part of their lives, and repulsed at myself for even caring. But in my naive and fantastical mind I thought to myself, why not try and get in touch...rather than observe their lives as they unfold on friendster, let's make contact with people and really show that we're all pass the bogus drama of yesteryear. So I tried...the results weren't great, and now the injury of having a wounded friendship has been re-cut, although I’m only allowing myself now to admit it. Oh well, I suppose getting wild over it would be insane and the likelihood that I’ll see these people is so slim. It's just crazy to "see" someone's life unfold on a web page, and after so many years of estrangement to still see the things that drew you together. I saw that an ex-friend of mine, Ruby, has similar career aspirations to my own.... and when we were actually friends that wasn't the case. How crazy is it for us, 5 years later, to feel pulled in similar directions and have that passion truly fuel us and our pursuits! If this weren't a reality-based life that I was living, it would be awesome to reconnect over that...but I’m too real to put any hope in that. An ex friend, Ruth, is living in LA now and most likely was living there when I was still at 'SC. Our falling out was horrendous, one of my worst displays as a human being...but again, wouldn't it be nice to fly down and see her. Or not.
When I think about past hurts, which I try not to do very much, I think of: A) Ex boyfriends and B) Ex friends. I don't think about wack family issues, racist’s employers or in-group conflict amongst other uppity Negroes. When I think of heartbreak, in the truest form, those above names resonate so strongly that I feel completely unsettled. Well momentarily unsettled. And I have to ask myself, when does that feeling stop? I hear the name Ruth...Ananda.... Ruby...Marie, names of women who I once shared my spirit with and names of women whose impact in my life was dear. And yet their names, the thought, the sound.... make me feel unlike the woman I need to be now, at the ripe age of 23. I wonder do they care about me... do they wonder about the what if. Who knows...but it's times like these that I reflect upon those things, even though it makes me ill. What also makes me ill, since I'm feeling nostalgic, is the fact that one of my dearest friends is now very good friends with some of the very people from our past who sucked royally. They were completely pretentious, white oppressive, faux-liberal, culturally flat assholes. And I have to ask myself, is my dearest KT becoming one of these people too? What does she have in common with these people who, because they grew up in Berkeley, think that they are experts on society and culture, who because they've never had to work or earn their way can sit around and condensate in pseudo intellectual circles and really think what they say is truth. I find myself wondering... am I insane? Am I losing it? When I am afraid I can't relate to one of the people most dear to me...I don't get it. I have to believe that it's brainwashing, that she's so far from home...she has no choice but to spend time with these people. It's just a disgusting thought and on that note, I'll attempt sleep once more.
Yet tonight I, in my feverish attempt at avoiding my tummy ache, searched through those very websites and their compiled lists of old friends and ex's of all kinds.... and found myself looking upon the pictures of the very people I sometimes do ache for. When I think of friendship in it's purest form.... or when I reflect upon the really sweet moments of pre-collegiate life, I do think of these girls. And it never ceases to amaze me how once or twice a year I find myself feeling...regretful. I feel envious of those who are a part of their lives, and repulsed at myself for even caring. But in my naive and fantastical mind I thought to myself, why not try and get in touch...rather than observe their lives as they unfold on friendster, let's make contact with people and really show that we're all pass the bogus drama of yesteryear. So I tried...the results weren't great, and now the injury of having a wounded friendship has been re-cut, although I’m only allowing myself now to admit it. Oh well, I suppose getting wild over it would be insane and the likelihood that I’ll see these people is so slim. It's just crazy to "see" someone's life unfold on a web page, and after so many years of estrangement to still see the things that drew you together. I saw that an ex-friend of mine, Ruby, has similar career aspirations to my own.... and when we were actually friends that wasn't the case. How crazy is it for us, 5 years later, to feel pulled in similar directions and have that passion truly fuel us and our pursuits! If this weren't a reality-based life that I was living, it would be awesome to reconnect over that...but I’m too real to put any hope in that. An ex friend, Ruth, is living in LA now and most likely was living there when I was still at 'SC. Our falling out was horrendous, one of my worst displays as a human being...but again, wouldn't it be nice to fly down and see her. Or not.
When I think about past hurts, which I try not to do very much, I think of: A) Ex boyfriends and B) Ex friends. I don't think about wack family issues, racist’s employers or in-group conflict amongst other uppity Negroes. When I think of heartbreak, in the truest form, those above names resonate so strongly that I feel completely unsettled. Well momentarily unsettled. And I have to ask myself, when does that feeling stop? I hear the name Ruth...Ananda.... Ruby...Marie, names of women who I once shared my spirit with and names of women whose impact in my life was dear. And yet their names, the thought, the sound.... make me feel unlike the woman I need to be now, at the ripe age of 23. I wonder do they care about me... do they wonder about the what if. Who knows...but it's times like these that I reflect upon those things, even though it makes me ill. What also makes me ill, since I'm feeling nostalgic, is the fact that one of my dearest friends is now very good friends with some of the very people from our past who sucked royally. They were completely pretentious, white oppressive, faux-liberal, culturally flat assholes. And I have to ask myself, is my dearest KT becoming one of these people too? What does she have in common with these people who, because they grew up in Berkeley, think that they are experts on society and culture, who because they've never had to work or earn their way can sit around and condensate in pseudo intellectual circles and really think what they say is truth. I find myself wondering... am I insane? Am I losing it? When I am afraid I can't relate to one of the people most dear to me...I don't get it. I have to believe that it's brainwashing, that she's so far from home...she has no choice but to spend time with these people. It's just a disgusting thought and on that note, I'll attempt sleep once more.
posted by Bebe Jardin @ 1:23 AM
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