“And these memories lose their meaning, when I think of love as something new”
March 30, 2010 § 1 Comment
When I was little, I was excited about college before I was ever excited about high school. There was no option of not going; college was just in the natural progression of my life, like puberty and menopause. I’d dream about what it’d be like on a big campus, surrounded by romantic ivy-wrapped buildings and gothic architecture. I’d dream about getting into a heated argument in an ethics class with a stubborn yet handsome boy who I’d eventually date. I dreamed about lecture halls and late night study sessions at the library. I dreamed about meet-cutes at the coffee kiosk, dorms, bookstores, and political rallies.
I was more than convinced that my life, or the “life that counted” wouldn’t start until college, so anything before it would be idle time, a holding room until college was ready for me. College would be a time of great growth and self-learning, and I would come out of it as confident as I could ever be. And I’d meet amazing people; people who would change my life just by being part of it, enriching it with their unique personalities and perspectives. These would be friends who would become part of my wedding party, friends who’d support me through my divorce(s), friends who would know me better than I would know myself. Yes, I was positive that college was going to provide me with this; college would cater to me. And college would be everything I envisioned, everything I had created in my head, because it had to – I had been putting everything off in anticipation of this great life.
Except, there was no ivy, and there were no creepy statues. That heated ethics argument was with an angry lesbian, not a Rivers Cuomo-esque type of boy. The lecture halls were at 7:30 in the morning with 530 overeager, overcompetitive, equally high-strung pre-med students. Study sessions at the library were not glamorous; falling asleep face first in my biochemistry book at one in the morning was not the image I had pictured. Waking up to a page fused to my cheek was neither cute nor charming, especially if drooling was involved.
Because I was/am psychotic and have terrible time management skills, the middle years of college were pretty damn miserable; I was taking on far too many classes than I could sanely handle. I’d leave the apartment at eight in the morning, only to return fourteen hours later to sit at my desk, desperately trying to retain the information on the pages and notes before me. It was here that I developed my erratic sleeping habits (I once briefly fell asleep on the stretching mats on the main floor of the IMA), the ones that I ultimately blame for my insomnia now.
Needless to say, with all the sleep depravation and overwhelming course load, I wasn’t the most pleasant person to be around. On top of it all (because I’m also a masochist), I started to take on the opening shifts at work – which meant waking up at 4:30 in the morning. I figured if I wasn’t sleeping, I should be making some money at it. I was tired and cranky all the time to the point where my own parents were too nervous to call, in case I snapped. I turned down weekend invites from friends, flaked out countless of times, and gave plenty of bullshit excuses about my absences.
Gradually, the calls and invites dwindled. I didn’t blame my friends – I was so unreliable and scatter-brained that I completely understood their annoyances. A commitment from me meant nothing, and people were genuinely surprised at the times I did show face. I knew I was being a terrible friend, but I was too busy and far too tired to care. I would run into once-close friends and they would give me a Cliff’s notes version of the happenings of their lives and I started to realize how much I was missing out, how much I was drifting away from them. The close group of friends I had always envisioned was disappearing before my very eyes, sailing away on the we-balance-it-all-just-fine ship, while I was stuck at the harbor, being viciously attacked by lab reports. At the rate I was going, I had barely anyone to invite to my wedding(s), let alone ask to be my bridesmaids.
It wasn’t until I went back to a reasonable number of credits a quarter and started sleeping in places other than crosswalks and stoplights that I came to full awareness of my lack of a college experience. Everything I had preplanned had gone kaput and my social circle was on the brink of extinction. I barely knew a life outside of organic chem labs and office hours. I knew going in to college that the academics would have to be a priority, but I never expected it to swallow my life so entirely. And more importantly, I never anticipated that I would do so poorly balancing everything. This wasn’t the me I had seen in my premonitions – I was supposed to be enviously well-rounded and successful. I was supposed to be the one everyone looked at and went, ‘wow, that girl has her shit together’, not the one who continuously stepped in it.
I was facing, or thought I was facing a whole new challenge: trying to incorporate myself back into my friends’ lives. I knew how selfish and presumptuous I was being – I was basically saying to them, ‘Hey, remember me? I know I didn’t have time for you guys before, but here I am now, so let’s just pick up where we left off, eh?’. I half-expected to be shunned, or in the very least, ignored when my name suddenly popped up on their incoming call logs.
But because I had once again grossly underestimated how amazing these people were, I struggled to hide my shock when they did indeed, accept me back with open arms. No questions were asked. No prerequisites had to be fulfilled. I never had to beg for forgiveness and repentance because they required no apologies. These were people who understood friendship to be more than what I had superficially gathered and created in my head. And while they tried to convince me otherwise, I felt completely undeserving of such love, kindness, and understanding.
It’s no reach to say that I can be quite… slow when it comes to understanding human affections. It’s easy to trust the people around me, but even easier to not. Sadly, I think I’ve always approached people with an air of skepticism and cautiousness. And while that has certainly provided me with a sheath of protection against unsavory characters, it has also in turn, prevented me from getting close to those who truly warrant trust.
I finally took the time to analyze where I had gone wrong in my planning. I already had years of college past me, the so-called ‘life’ I had been so eagerly anticipating that would provide me with all the experiences that I thought I was supposed to have… only to find out that I was coming up utterly empty-handed. Besides the sleepless nights and vicious caffeine abuse, I had very little evidence of this great college life. I had not grown wiser or felt any assurance that I was evolving as a human being; in fact, I felt just as lost, empty, and frustrated as ever. I was learning to deal with the stress and workload better. I was learning about crossbreeds of fruit flies and how to write an effective thesis, but I remained as emotionally retarded as I had always been.
The problem was, I was looking at those expected experiences – including friendships – systematically. I had created a to-do list of sorts; a grocery list of everything I thought I needed to achieve within a specific timeline. What took me a long time for me to learn was that you couldn’t predict and plan what and how much you’ll learn from any particular event, no matter how much you wanted it to. Life is like Delta Airlines; it never runs on schedule. Experiences can’t be evaluated and appraised. There is no checklist.
The problem with learning an unintentional lesson is that you panic and try to overcompensate. But I was smart enough to understand that if I were to do so, I would once again be forcing circumstances in hopes of retaining some sort of wisdom. I wasn’t going to try to throw myself into playing catch-up, because clearly, that had backfired tremendously.
I vowed to stop being carried away by clichéd expectations, and just learn from the greatest teachers around me – my friends. In them I saw all the qualities I admired most. They were successfully tackling responsibility without being bogged down and overwhelmed. They approached life and friendship with a grace and kindness I could only ever hope to achieve, with unrestricted hearts. And although I still felt like I had a lot of work to do to deserve their companionship, they never made me feel like I had to earn it.
I recently returned from an outrageous trip to Vegas with an amazing group of friends. Some were new, and some I had known for years, but we all embarked on a weekend adventure worthy of a screenplay (involved: missing teeth and near bitch-brawls at a McDonald’s drive-thru). Together we laughed until our sides began to cramp, doubled over with tears streaming down our alcohol-flushed cheeks. We sat with each other on the bathroom floor while we regurgitated the contents of the buffet, and looked out for one another even when we were barely able to walk ourselves. And while many of the details remain fuzzy (much thanks to the notorious amount of Goose consumed), I know I returned home with a renewed sense of camaraderie and love for those I cherished (as well as a remorseless hangover).
More than ever, I want to be the person who deserves the friends I have. I want to be able to contribute and give just as much, if not more, the love, patience, and support my friends have always given me. It is thanks to them, and not the hours logged at the tutoring center, that I feel I am becoming the person I had always hoped I would be.
What’s that overworked saying? Life is what happens when you’re busy making plans? In my case especially, that adage seems to be an undeniable truth. I had been trying to force my life to happen according to a preconceived list of expectations. It didn’t have to be that hard. The stories began to write themselves once I stopped pushing for the plot. The characters were always there, better than anything I could have generated. All I had to do was stop being such a freaking basket case.
To everyone, from my formerly-scrawny-ass-white-boy-now-a-meathead best friend, to my beautiful Bewbie (who I’d like to joke that with her blonde hair and blue eyes, probably owned half a dozen slaves in a former life), to the entire Vegas crew, to the group I share a loss and heartache with, to everyone who has tolerated me and allowed me to stick around, I could never convey the gratitude and fortune I feel by being permitted to call you my friends. I am truly blessed to know so many beautiful souls, and with your love and guidance, I will continue to strive to be a person worthy of your friendship.
soopastryheart 
Just caught up on your last few posts. Amazing as always 🙂
Everyone in Seattle wishes you were here and awaits our reunion. Oh and don't work too hard to be my friend. I don't work that hard at it, so let's not try to make me look bad… ;P