You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘Friends’ tag.
I think that when I’m depressed, I purge things. For instance, I’ve just deleted another 80 or so people from my facebook, and I’ve deleted my Twitter account. I think I start considering what matters, what is helping or hindering me, and then I act accordingly.
Not to say that people don’t matter, but honestly, I don’t need hundreds of people on facebook that I never interact with. They just take emotional energy that I don’t have available to give. The worst part is when I feel guilty about deleting someone, but if it’s someone that I haven’t been friends with in years, with whom there is no significant interaction, then there is no reason to keep them… Right?
I also begin distancing myself from people who I feel like I give time/emotion/energy to, but who never seem to reciprocate. Because I’d rather have only a few good friends than many superficial friends. My introverted self can’t handle the masses.
And in the end, I still only have one person on facebook that I’ve never met… Barry Rodriguez from World Next Door. I can’t delete him. I’m still hoping to meet him someday in real life. (And then he’ll fall in love with me, naturally.)
I need a job.
Most of the time, I think that moving home from Portland was a good idea. What was I going to accomplish in Portland that I couldn’t accomplish here? Minus get farther into debt…
And at the time, where I was emotionally, I had to have a change. I had to go somewhere else, somewhere where I had a better support system. (My few friends in Portland, however, are spectacular. So do not think I am discounting them.)
But… I miss those few friends. And I miss taking language classes… both Greek and Hebrew. I am dying that I’m not in Hebrew with my good friend, H., right now. I want to take more of both languages, but I don’t want to take Hebrew from anyone except Dr. J and Dr. K. Period. So what’s a girl to do??
I am so addicted to school. Even in the midst of hating the task of writing my thesis (trying to write), I keep finding myself scheming to find ways to stay in school. To continue. I am sick. Or insane. But unfortunately quite poor and unable to support my habit/addiction.
Or maybe it’s just that I’ve never known a life outside of being a student. It’s who I am. What I do. How I define myself and my life and my purpose. But that has to end someday, right?
I’m so confused.
Today feels like it has a good chance of being productive. I got up at 7am on the nose (sleeping in!), went for a walk, and cleaned the bathroom. I am meeting a friend for coffee at 11am, but intend to bring my thesis research so I can read afterwards.
I have an idea for a story, a book. I’ve written down my inspiration for it (which came from a dream), and am now working on seeing if I can flesh out the details enough to have a go at writing it. Not that I can let this distract me from my thesis. But maybe it can be a prize for when I’ve finished my daily work?
I’m still worried about finding a job after my thesis. A real job. One I can live on. I suppose that, worse comes to worst, I could always get a second bachelors degree, one that would be practical. I’m already looking into it as a side idea. Not that I want an additional 2-3 years of school. But how hard can undergrad be once I’ve finished a masters? Wouldn’t it be like a walk in the park? (Or so I console myself.)
Sometimes, I make dates with the intention of canceling them later. And by sometimes, I mean 98% of the time. On a scale of 1 to 10, how awful is that?
Dates are disgusting.
But in better thoughts, I have a lovely wealth of books to read stacked on my bedside table: The Hunger Games Trilogy (borrowed from my niece), Tom’s Midnight Garden, CultureShock! Ecuador, Chronicle’s of Avonlea, Further Chronicles of Avonlea, The Chrysalids, My Side of the Mountain, Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator, and numerous others. Some I’ve read before, some I’ll be reading for the first time.
I also re-loaded Sims 2 on my computer and have been playing it much too often. Please save me from my alter-reality. I like it way too much.
And I just got back from a delightful weekend in Canada with friends from college. So good!!
That’s all. Have a lovely evening.
Job searching certainly isn’t pleasant. However, I have a few leads for places that are hiring that I wouldn’t mind working at. (It kills me when I end sentences with prepositions, but colloquially, the sentences sound better than with proper grammar.)
I’d prefer to spend the days seeing friends, though.
And, of course, my thesis is still hanging over my head. I really must get a start on it soon.
Not to mention that if I want to be able to understand a word when I move to Ecuador, I’d better get going on my review of Spanish.
Yesterday’s post was… poorly written. I was trying for something, but didn’t achieve it and posted anyway.
I’m still moving forward with my South America idea. I’ve decided I’m moving home at the end of July/beginning of August. This is so I can save money and still afford to finish my degree, plus afford a plane ticket and the program fees. I’m hoping I’ll be able to find a job even though I’m obviously over-qualified for the jobs I plan on applying for.
I also have a friend who is considering coming with me. I am doing my best to give her the information she would need to make a decision, but to not push her. In reality, I just want to force her to come. She’s one of my favourite people, and I know I could live with her. And we’d be the people who would buy food together and eat our meals together, like a real family. However, I am not going to make my decision based on her decision. Even if I’d like to.
The other reason I’m moving home is so that if I truly do jump on a plane to South America, I’ll have time to spend with family and friends. My close friends are still all where I used to live. They’re still the ones I miss and wish I was with. Plus my nieces are there.
Now all I have to do is finish my thesis. Did I mention I finally have an adviser? My dean offered to advise my paper–he’s pretty excited about it, which makes me excited.
I have a problem. When I am surrounded by books, especially new-to-me books of the fiction variety, I soon begin to feel as if I have no need for actual people. I get so immersed in literature that I start forgetting what is real. I remember when I read My Sister’s Keeper for the first time. I actually got angry and started talking about how it wasn’t ethical, until my friend asked me if I knew it was just a book… I assured her I did, but that was merely a cover for the foray into my imagination.
Anyway. What with my belief that books are friends (and that while I am reading, I forget the characters aren’t real), I stop needing outside interactions. It can take me a very long time to get tired of only reading and to wish for a human presence. Literature makes my introversion come out in full force. And books provide a way in which I feel as if I am getting human interactions while never having a drop of energy taken from me in the exchange.
You can see the dilemma. It’s not a problem when I’m reading too much non-fiction to be interested in reading fiction. Then I crave my real-life friends. But the rest of the time? You might as well give me up as a lost cause.
I’ll emerge eventually. Have patience.
I’ve moved. I wish I didn’t get so stressed out over these things, but I do. And even though I’m settled in and unpacked, it’s such a new situation (despite being an identical apartment), that I’m still feeling it. For some reason, I decided to set up my room differently. I like how it looks, but even that “little” change is something to get used to. My roommate is, well, she’s not my old roomie (I miss you, roomie!). It will be quite the adjustment, and she’s not half as particular about things as I am, so that will be interesting. She’s also much more extroverted than I am, which can be tiring for me, especially when I am already so tired.
I sincerely hope I can find a job that will pay me enough so that I can live on my own. I desperately want to have my own space.
In other news, Jury Duty is going well. 4 out of 20 days down. Weekdays, that is.
And I have a friend coming this weekend. Not many of my friends have come visit me (although, more, I suppose, than I should expect), so I’m always excited when one does.
And finally, swing dancing last night was disappointing. But at least I went.
Being “home” this time has helped in a way I didn’t imagine. It made me miss my real home. The one where I now live, rather than the one where I used to live. I might not have everything like I want it at home, such as a niche, but it’s my home. It’s where my life is. And this, this is not where my life is anymore.
I’m going back a day early, tomorrow. Partially it is because I have gotten ZERO homework done (yikes!) and partially it is because I miss it. I don’t have a place here anymore, and I’d rather be where I at least sort of have a place.
I like my friends here, don’t get me wrong. But for the most part, they are friends that are my friends when I come to visit and not really otherwise. That is not a bad thing; it is part of life. It is what happens when someone moves. Everyone moves on. And I have moved on. And it is better that way. I’m not too confident about fully putting down roots yet, however, as I have no idea of where I’ll be come December. But that’s okay.
It seems that the grass isn’t always greener on the other side after all.
I feel like something broke in me a few weeks ago. And it just keeps breaking more and more.
But, unlike many times, this isn’t a good kind of breaking. I’m not talking about when a wall breaks down or when our defenses break. I’m talking about a belief in something or the capacity to believe in it.
And as much as I know, really know, not to base my faith on the humans around me who claim to have the same faith, I almost cannot help it at times. So when I feel let down by every person around me who I previously did not think would/could let me down, there is a shift that occurs. And when I read my Bible and realize the implications of my faith: that so many (the majority) of the world does not believe in what I believe is an exclusive faith, and thus will be reduced to the inevitability of hell, I wonder how it can be true. I consider the attractiveness of a faith that leans toward or embraces universalism and open theism. I wonder what I believe.
I find myself desiring more interactions with non-believers. I want the freedom to consider ideas that I’m not allowed to consider within my faith. I want the freedom to embrace that humans will let you down and have no higher calling which should, in many respects, help them avoid many of the ways they do let you down.
I’m tired of living in a world characterized by brokenness and with followers of Christ who remain just as broken, despite the presence of the Holy Spirit. I’m tired of being broken myself.
And sometimes, I just can’t stand Christians. The judgments, the duplicity, the refusal to be open and honest and real. The holier-than-thou, the “I’m right, you’re wrong” attitudes. I don’t want to be that, and I don’t want to be associated with it.
Part of this is the loneliness that I’m not sure I’m supposed to feel when I’m literally surrounded by those who are, in theory, supposed to be “brothers and sisters in Christ.” If I’m part of a “family,” and my main social interactions are from seminary and church, why am I so alone? Where are these people when I need them?
As I watch the rain come down, these are the questions I’m asking. And I wonder if I will have any faith left by the time I am done here, or if I am merely grasping at straws for what isn’t actually there.