The Importance of Friendship

When you spend countless hours in an empty house, and driving around alone your mind wanders. I’ve been holed up in my brain so much that it’s one Q-tip away from leaking out my ears. The only benefit to this is that I get think about some pretty insightful things, at least I think I’m insightful.

Considering I spend about 20 hours or more a day isolated from the rest of the world, I think a lot about friendship. About being in the company of others, and when I spend time in the midst of society, I often fantasize forming friendships with people that I see. Like the pirate, I’d love to add a pirate to my friend group. First of all how handy would it be? If people mess with you he can have them walk the plank or at least call them scallywags and if you get lost, he’s a seasoned seafarer so it won’t ever be for very long. All kidding aside, I’m so lonely that I will make friends with just about anyone, pirate or otherwise. The few friends that I have nearby live between 20 minutes and 1½ hour away.

Prior to this summer, I never really spent anytime with them. They’re cool people we just didn’t hang out on regular intervals. I think I took for granted the friendships I had in college. Specifically, my Canadian best friend, before I left town I hung out with this girl to the point of exhaustion. It was fun but every once in a while we’d end up arguing because we spent so much time together, we would fight like sisters. Now, I wish not being able to hang out with her on the daily. Helping her study for tests, or sitting at a coffee shop playing games while she studied profusely. We still talk, but it sucks not seeing her, ever. Around this time last year she was made a citizen of this fine country, but she’s still one of my favorite foreigners.

Blech. I’m so entirely depressed I don’t know what to do with myself. I was going to write about how when you boil it down you only make friends through shared experiences. When you boil it all down that’s what it comes too. You keep your friends for different reasons, proximity, shared interests, shared dna, similar backgrounds, and sometimes-unexplainable interest in them. I’ve met people through different experiences: an unplanned trip to a local pizzareria, a mandatory classes, plays, or after I moved from my apartment because I had been threatened to be cut mere hours earlier. Some of these friends I have grown closer with, while others I can’t really count them as friends other than our mutual Facebook friendship. Some of the friends I’ve lost because our distance increased across state lines, there were sour grapes between us, or we just lost interest in each other. It happens to the best of friendships, but we all change, hopefully evolving into greater versions of ourselves, sometimes de-evolving closer to the Neanderthals we once were.

I have gone through a lot of friends; I went through a period where I’d toss them out whenever I met someone new and more interesting, or if they fulfilled my purpose for keeping them. It’s cruel and hypocritical, because I have been tossed out of a friend group because I no longer interested them. Looking back, I wish wouldn’t have thrown people away like leftover sushi.

The friendships I now maintain, I cherish. Not kissing photos of them rereading texts that they sent, fawning over them stalker-ly cherish, but truly appreciating the bond I have with them. Without them I would probably be even more lost. They bring sanity into my life as it stands now. They remind me that I have evolved from the person I was 6 years ago. Even if they aren’t aware, hopefully they are now, or will be soon.

Welcome to the Evil Corporate Empire, would you like paper or plastic?

Today, my depression increased immensely with every inch I came closer to the hiring office at my new place of employment. It feels like defeat. Like this is the best that I can do after 4½ years of college, and 5 years working while going to school. When I sat down to accept my job offer, I noticed that the pay grade they placed me at was fifty cents lower than I had specified, and it’s a $3.50 less than what a recruiter told me my acceptable minimum should be. I questioned the hiring manager about it and she told me that because I don’t have any experience, this is the highest that they could offer me. I became indignant. I told her that I’d have to consider it, because after 4 years of college and 5 years of experience working, that it would be hard for me to accept a job which was paying me less than what I was making in college. She looked at me funny because I had worked several minimum wage jobs, and the last job I had paid me something ridiculous like 2.00 an hour plus room and board. However, my last real job was at the mission and I was making $10, while I was still in college. So therefore, that’s what I consider to be my college job. I was trying to keep my calm and told her that I feel awful about this but I had to call my mom. I’m such a dork, but my mom is pretty savvy and she agreed with me. I should be making more, although it is a part time job so I should take it anyway. Beggars can’t be choosers now can they.

Tomorrow, I have to call this lady and instead of being able to tell her to shove it up her ass, I have to say, “I’d be happy to work for your corporate empire and I can’t wait to be apart of the team!” Blech. Seriously. I’m defeated. I’m defeated by the way corporate America works. I’m aggravated that I had been spoon fed lies about how having a college degree really gives you an advantage in the work place. How, when I graduate I’ll be able to start higher than those who didn’t graduate and it won’t be contingent upon my degree. Horseshit! My thread of hope is a Chiropractic office that doesn’t want to hire smokers because of the smell. My dad smokes, two packs a day, at least one of which is in the living room where I spend a good portion of my time. Soaking in the glorious smell. I reek. Everything I own reeks, my hair my clothes my back pack, computer everything. So, I’m going to try and bath in Febreeze before I walk in. Hoping, that the foul odor doesn’t waft into his nostrils and tickle the hairs.

Quiet the Mind.

Tomorrow I have an interview at the Tag office. I’m hoping that after tomorrow I’ll be able to bring home a paycheck for the first time in a month and a half. The longer I’m out of work, the more discouraged I become in the whole ability to join in the ranks of the employed. Given a preference I’d rather be employed than unemployed, even if I could afford being unemployed. I need to work because I need something to do other than catch up on all those television series that I missed out on due to being in college and working full time or even almost full time.

Sitting at home all day has never been my thing. In high school I was always doing something, either working on a play, at Tae Kwon Do or hanging out with my boyfriend or friends. The few times in my life that I’ve had the opportunity to just veg, by the end of the first day of vegetation I was bored out of my mind and starting into depression. I am one of those people who will move until they die. Vegging has never made me feel refreshed afterward.

I’m pretty sure that it’s a rare occasion that I don’t move in my sleep. I toss and turn all night, talk in my sleep, and have been known to sleep walk, etc. Stillness is one of those things that makes me nervous and uncomfortable. It took me years to be able to just sit in silence. I still can’t do it successfully: if I’m in complete silence I fidget. As a theatre major I participated in a lot of exercises where I was instructed to “clear your mind,” I couldn’t do it. I would end up thinking about my biggest concerns, my current flavor of the week, or making up things. I felt like my brain was going to shut off, and I was going to turn into a vegetable or something. Highly irrational, I know.

I’m the same person that thought I could be born from a Martian seed disguised as a crouton placed into my mom’s salad 24 years ago, and that they would come pick me up and take me back any day now. I grew out of that phase in 5^th grade after I went to space camp and they insisted that there is no life on Mars, not now anyway. Clever, if I do say so myself, but irrational.

I had all the kinks worked out too. There is no denying that I was a spitting image of my mother, when she was in grade school, so I rationalized that because Martians are far more intelligent creatures then humans, that the seed replicated my parents DNA to create a being that would resemble them, but would have Martian intelligence, thus explaining why I was so much smarter than my parents. I also rationalized that there must have been a Martian salad guy working at the restaurant which is how the crouton was placed there. I was born right on time in the Martian world, and not weeks early like the doctor concluded. Also the reason, why she almost died during childbirth, seriously, how could a simple human successfully birth a Martian? Which is why I, like Macduff, was not born of a women, but from my mother’s womb untimely ripped. Well, I guess timely ripped, but still. The things I came up with when I was younger amuse me. Hell, I’m still amused by the theories I come up with.

It is a rare moment when I’m not thinking about something, which is why I’m always annoyed when people say they weren’t thinking about anything when they have the blank stare. I categorize myself as very normal, even though I often call myself weird, so if other people can stare blankly into the oblivion, they must be thinking because that is what I’m doing when I have that absent look on my face. I can’t see, properly because I’m visualizing whatever idea I’m entertaining in my mind.

These past two weeks without a job and not being on a constant road trip, I have been going absolutely stir crazy. I don’t know how to manage, when I don’t have people to hang out or things to do. My mind gets all wrapped up into itself and by 4 O’clock every day I’m ready to head out the door, coincidently, if not on purpose, before my dad gets home to greet me with awkward formalities. I’m partially embarrassed, “no I didn’t find a job yet,” “Today was boring, didn’t do anything but fill out applications, surf the Internet and watch TV,” and “I’m hoping to be a productive member of society, soon.” My dad means well, but after our brief chat, he turns his conversation to the TV, and I hole up into my computer, hoping it will bring me closer to social interaction.

So, I digress.

These past few days, Podunk has been a quiet place. Who am I kidding? It’s always a quiet place. I lounge around all day in my underwear barely able to force myself to take a shower. In fact I don’t think I showered today, before I left to drop off my resume at a local “alternative” medical practice. Luckily, I received an email that I can’t drop it off until tomorrow because they are only accepting resumes during certain hours. Thanking the Gods of Technology for being able to receive my emails via my phone, I turned down a side road hoping to be able to drive back to the House of Solitude, without making a U-turn. I was successful in this but I also drove fifteen minutes out of my way, passing several old men going out to get the mail in unbuttoned plaid shirts, beer bellies hanging out proud and eager over their khaki shorts. I say eager because southern male bellies have a mind of their own. The men let their belly lead them, similar to them taking Cujo for a walk. Like it knows that as soon as it gets to the mailbox and back it will be rewarded with a Natty Light. “Good Belly!”

Continuing my journey off the main road, I noticed several for sale signs, “House for Sale, please before we face foreclosure,” “Car for Sale, runs like new even though it’s a Pinto and hasn’t been driven in 20 years, and needs new tires, new belts, new AC, we only want 2400 dollars,” “Tractor for sale, how else are you gonna cut your grass?” “Goat for sale” wait what Goat for Sale? Are you kidding me?

I found my way back to Mainstreet, Podunk and eventually home to change into more comfortable clothes. A pair of Gap Jeans no less, it’s been years since I’ve been able to fall into the Gap. Not that I really wanted to, Gap and Old Navy are the higher end K-mart of fashion. Sure, it’s completely acceptable to wear Gap or Old Navy in a social setting, but I always find that within months I have to replace my clothes due to wear and tear. Seriously, they need to hire more skilled Mexican factory workers to sew the buttons on my pants. I can’t count the number of times my jeans or shirts from these stores have decided that they didn’t want to be worn in public anymore. Even their pajama pants always end up getting a huge hole in the crotch. Thankfully, I’ve almost entirely grown out of the wearing pajama pants in public stage. I’m sure my friends and family will agree with me on that one.

Anyway, I digress, which if you haven’t noticed 90 percent of anything I write is a digression of some sort. I used to get in trouble all the time for this. “Get to the point, Sara.” “Do you really need to discuss why you think, that Porcupines are the vein of society? This is an essay about Socialism.” “It is completely unnecessary to add anecdotal evidence from your own life into a biography of Martin Luther King, Jr.” My personal favorite is the time when I wrote an essay on the Stigma of Mental disorders and was told prior to starting the assignment and several times during the course of the class that we were not to include any kind of personal touch. I ended up writing 32 pages, 15 of which were about the Stigma of Mental disorders and the rest was a personal biography of my experience with therapists. The response “this would have been a higher grade if you had focused on the topic instead of your own life”.

I left Casa de Solitude in search of interactions with people, even if it is only as much as a greeting from the bank teller, and a drink order from the Borders barista. Thankfully, Borders has more tables available today. Last time I was in here there wasn’t even a comfy chair open. I also feel it necessary to not visit the same locations too much, or they’ll start to think I’m strange, although, the Starbucks in Podunk probably appreciates my business.

I settled into my seat and began continuing this project and in walked this guy, dressed like a pirate. I didn’t know what to do with myself. Should I have asked him where he left his parrot and peg leg? Maybe he left them on the Jolly Roger. He had a fucking satchel! Better than any satchel that I’ve ever made. It was leather and adorned with some kind of pirate-y logo. An honest to God Satchel attached to his belt, I bet it has a treasure map and a compass, and possibly his eye patch; I mean why keep it on the boat if you can have it so handy. I really want to know what’s in this satchel. I’m in love, with crazy pirate dude. Not like actual love, but like you’re my hero love. Like I think that you’re the coolest guy in this joint kind of love.

The people of Podunk are an interesting variety. The longer I stay here the more I notice that this is America. It is a melting pot of people of all ages and backgrounds. I mean they’ve got pirates, hot Asian dudes, spicy Mexicans, middle aged Mom’s, funny Preachers, and sweet old ladies.

I’m starting to appreciate my new homestead, although not enough to stick around longer than I have to. I think that I’m surprised by the diversity of this place. When I was growing up these area were filled with rednecks, and blacks. Now it’s grown into this different entity. It’s weird for me to hear languages other than redneck and street talk when I’m out and about. I know that as far as podunk towns go, Podunk is actually pretty advanced. But after years of living in either college towns, suburbia or major cities, Podunk is still podunk to me.

It also still has its backwards elements: interracial dating is still taboo, people who live alternative lifestyles (i.e. homosexuality) are still not openly accepted, etc. I am kind of problematic in that I support gay rights, and well, my ratio of relationships with white guys to non-white guys favors non-whites. I’m into the ethnic thing, I guess. I actually blame my dad for this because he told me I could never date Manuel Rodriguez when I was little, and ever since then I’ve almost exclusively dated guys of every ethnicity except white. It’s funny though because even my friends from outside of Podunk, are not entirely comfortable with interracial dating. They’ll get over it soon enough.

I’m excited to realize that the more I get out of my house and interact with the people around here, the better I feel about the situation I found myself in. I guess I can’t be angry forever. I shouldn’t be angry at all. I’ve always been the type that believes everything happens for a reason. I mean if I hadn’t been threatened by one of my first Tallahassee roommates I would have never met my Canadian best friend, and if I didn’t transfer to FSU, and if I didn’t overreact at my first summer camp job, I would have never found my favorite camp to work for. It makes me feel better living under these pretenses, otherwise what is the purpose of putting me in this town where I am so out of my comfort zone other than to amuse the powers that be.

Not Quite the Suckiest Birthday, Ever.

Today marks the beginning of my 24^th year of life, or would it be 25^th? I’m not sure I’ve never been good at math. To put it more simply, today I turned 24. I received birthday wishes from afar. With the exception of my dad, who took me out to a Japanese Steak House, more on that in a minute. From the night before I could tell it was going to be a quiet birthday.

I started off the day waking up groggy from six hours of sleep. I had gone to a Braves game the night before. We left at the end of the seventh inning after the Braves were up 6-0, and I spent the rest of the night surfing the net in hopes of conversation. Disappointed by the lack of conversation, I started browsing for churches in hoping of both enriching my spiritual life and making new friends. I found one and decided that if I woke up in time I’d go.

(Side Note) It is surprising to most of my friends that I have this affinity for Jesus, but I do honestly love God even though I am in no way a typical Christian, nor do I pretend to be. I loosely, label myself a Christian and will not give spiritual advice because my relationships with the church and with God are my own. I know that if I ever have a readership certain people will be frustrated and upset about the way I live my life because it’s not according to their biblical principles. I am generally an honest person, ask me a question and I’ll answer honestly even if my answer isn’t necessarily what you want to hear, barring it doesn’t have some sort of conflict of interest for me (life or death, exposing a secret, that sort of thing). So to cover my basis, the way I live my life is in no way a reflection of the Christian church, nor do I see myself as a reflection of God. This is another point of contention I have with the Christian church. Regardless, I like God, Jesus and most of the principles of Christianity; I also like to spiritually enrich my life, so going to church is something I enjoy doing most Saturdays or Sundays. Either way point is please don’t be offended. Rant over.

Back to the point, I found myself at a Church that advertised to have a contemporary worship service “like you’ve never seen before”. Intrigued and with the help of a 9:45 am text message from my brother, I woke up without a hitch. I got dressed kissed my dad good bye and headed to the 10:45 service. They didn’t live up to their advertising promise. I had seen worship like this before, people barely singing, ushers seating people during prayer, and not a single greeter welcoming me, by the time all the song and dance was over I was ready to leave. I didn’t want to miss out on the sermon though because that was part of the reason I was there. Thankfully, I didn’t leave because the pastor was hilarious. I laughed out loud, it was the redeeming factor that this particular church needed for me to return. He joked about the south, secular life, and he was a friendly person. I left with a sense of enlightenment. Okay not really, but I did feel marginally better. My mood spiked a little and I was around people; it was a welcome change.

Upon my return to casa de Podunk, around noon-ish, my dad was insisting that he take me for my birthday dinner (please note the time). We went to a hibachi grill around the corner, and I successfully made eye contact with an attractive bus boy. He kept looking over throughout the course of my meal. This guy could not take his eyes off of me. Some girls would be freaked out by it, but I was happy to have an admirer. It was a great birthday present. Every time I saw him he would look in my direction and smile, even my dad noticed that I had a fan. Hindsight being 20-20, I wish I had written my phone number on a napkin or the chopstick paper. I’ll probably go back there with a sushi craving sometime next week, hoping that I can dispel the myth about Asians.

We returned home stuffed on Sushi and Hibachi, my dad fell asleep watching scary movies, while I refreshed Facebook on five-minute intervals hoping for new birthday wishes. Although my birthday wishes were aplenty, my buzz had worn off. Down on my luck, and consumed by cabin fever I decided that I had to get out of the House of Solitude, drive, find somewhere to go. I drove down the main road into the next town hoping that since I’m in the middle of red-blooded America I’d be able to find an independent coffee chain. But it looks as though Starbucks has left no stone unturned in its world takeover.

(Detracting Side note) I like Starbucks don’t get me wrong, I worked for them several times throughout college, always leaving when a better opportunity came along. They are a good company. Well, at least Howard Schultz is a good guy; he has a good business model and seems to care both about his costumers and employees. I equate Starbucks to socialism; it’s a good idea in theory but in practice people always seems to screw it up. (Rant over)

After driving through three cities, possibly four and unable to find a small quiet coffee shop, preferably one with free wi-fi, I’ve decided that none exist. (I of course found out later that this isn’t true but I haven’t found one that answers its phone, yet). I ended up back in Podunk, at the Starbucks around the corner from my house. Unaware of what to do with life I ended up typing entry number 1, 2, and the beginning of 3. I was kicked out at closing time and drove back home feeling remarkably better. It lead me to one conclusion, the only way to keep myself from going absolutely bat-shit crazy I must write. So for better or for worst this project was born, and for better or worst I have come to accept that this is where I am for now.

The Beginning of the End

A year ago, I was a month into my final semester of college, excited about the possibilities that finally graduating would bring. Actually more nervous than excited, but I had months before the semester would end and I was working a semi-steady job at a historical reenactment site, not as an actor but the friendly face of the Visitor Center. I wasn’t always friendly to all of my co-workers. I feel comfortable thinking that they liked having me around, at the very least for the entertainment of my awkward and usually uncomfortable outbursts. I had just started dating my first love, for the second time and I was quite happy with where life was going. I mean there were ups and downs and moments of complete and utter doubt, but that is and was my life in general. Which is probably more or less true of everyone.

Anyway, I made it through the semester, I successfully graduated, Cum Laude might I add. I’m proud of that, sure it’s not summa or even magna but it’s more than a lot of people can say. Graduating came with a lot of questions, as I’m sure it does and did for everyone, particularly “so what’s next?”

What was next? I had no idea my relationship was moderately copasetic, although the underlying problems of why we didn’t work out the first time were starting to surface again, but I was confident in spending my life with him. Oh, the naivety of youth and young love. So, I was sure that I would move closer to him after my lease was up in July, and I’d find a job in my hometown doing non-profit work. Which was my certain career path, at the time. Of course that wasn’t good enough for people so I usually said that I’d work at the Mission until my lease was up and then I’d get a job until I could get into Graduate school. I needed a break from college. People could understand that after seventeen and a half years of schooling without more than a summer vacation, I could use the welcome break.

Life went mostly as I had planned, except I left my job at the Mission to work at a camp in Central Florida for the summer. I figured what the heck, after camp I’d move in with my mom we’d live in disharmony until after I got a job and my own place to live but it wouldn’t be long. Although, my first love and I were in extremely rocky pastures and I had already decided it was over before I moved back home, but I was sure we would still be friends so it wouldn’t be bad being close to him, and I wasn’t too far from Orlando where many of my friends from high school still reside. Camp was great, as always I love working with kids and if I could spend my summers at camp, I certainly would.

Unfortunately, life threw me a curve ball and my newly diagnosed, cancer-ridden grandmother took up residence in my room. Two weeks before camp ended I was desperately searching for an alternative living situation. I mentioned to my dad my situation and he invited me to come stay with him. I accepted hoping, that by the time my already planned two-week long road trip was over, my grandmother would have bit the dust and I wouldn’t need to take him up on his offer. It’s harsh I won’t deny it, but please understand that I have more in common with my dad then I do than with the woman who disowned both me and my brother before we left the womb.

After camp let out she had finished her first round of chemo and she seemed to have handled it well. I was somewhat crushed but decided that maybe life wouldn’t be horrible after all. My plans for after camp had barely changed, I was intending to move in with a parent in a city at least 30 minutes away from people I know, and I had no job opportunities. I knew that I hadn’t lived with my dad since the end of seventh grade, but he was my dad and I’m sure it would be better than living with my mom. I was also working under false pretenses.

Shortly after I moved in with my dad, my grandmother died, and I was stuck. Here I am at a new beginning, waiting impatiently for life to take off. Hoping to jump-start it if necessary.

A Fresh Start

If you would have told me five years ago, when I was packing up to leave for college for the first time, that shortly after graduation I’d be moving in with my dad in Podunk, Georgia I would have slapped you in the face and called you silly. Now, that I’m here I can hardly believe it. Prior to taking up my new residence I was in a thrice-yearly obligatory 2-minute phone conversation commitment with my dad. The man who took off my junior year of high school, with a day of notice that he was leaving, in pursuit of greener pastures in the great state of Georgia. Even though we share several DNA commonalities, we were linked together in no other way. Now, we are roommates, and I have yet to adjust.

Moving to a new city with no job prospects and friends who are more than 30 minutes away is hard enough, but to couple that with living with a man that makes your blood boil because of his frequent dishonesty and lack of true compassion, well in an angsty Holden Caufield kind of way it’s just torture. Seriously, what living breathing compassionate God would do this to a person? Probably, one who gets off at watching humans squirm! After four and a half years of college, I thought I’d have better luck finding a job quickly even in a down turned economy, naive I know, but holding a diploma is something that not even a quarter of the residence in Podunk, Georgia hold. I’m being unfair, cynical, and mean to the people that I now share a city with. It’s hard not to be bitter and mad at the world when you know that none of this is your fault. (Side note: Unnecessary p.o.v. change but it’s easier to separate than accept truth).

I don’t know why I decided to choose a degree that would leave me limited job opportunities in my field. Well, if I were to take a guess it would be the innocence of youth, of not understanding the way the world works. Even into my senior year of college I had this crazy notion that money does not have an impact in quality of life. That happiness is dictated by self-worth and self-worth has an inverse relationship with money. Nine months after graduation, I find my optimistic attitude dwindling and my interest in finding a job that can pay for my party-a-day lifestyle hungrily increasing.

As I sit now in the corporate chain I used to work for, I find myself wondering why did this all happen to me? Why should I be forced to live in a city where I could never see myself fitting? My mind constantly wonders how long it will take for me to find a job and home closer to somewhere more appealing. My stubborn heart is starting to questions the motives of my maker. I ask again what kind of loving, compassionate God would do this to me? I used to be a good person, a straight A or thereabouts student, a non-confrontational, mostly loving, and genuinely honest member of society. I’m unsure of what happened to me over the last year that has hardened my heart. But here I am just outside of suburbia, longing for my journey to move me closer to an interesting city that will allow me to grow into a friendlier, more welcoming person. That sounds kind of backwards, I’m sure.

Southern hospitality is a thing down here. In my few weeks that I’ve actually managed to stay in Podunk, I’ve noticed that people are generally more welcoming, they smile more frequently and their dispositions sunnier. My real problem with Podunk is being so far away from people to spend quality time. I am in desperate need of social interaction. The state of depression I have entered into because of my circumstances is concerning. I know if my situation doesn’t change soon I will be closer to that state of mind I held 5 years ago shortly after my dad left. When my life seemed to be crumbling around me. I know that I can never fully go back to that state because I am always reminded of my eventual resilience.

At this point you’re probably unsure of the point of all this rambling, you’re allowed to be, but I do have one. It’s a project idea, one of my infamous projects that I start and never finish. The idea is this, to document life in Podunk, Georgia from my point of view. As with all of my unfinished projects it’s self-serving in nature and so if this doesn’t interest you, I’m happy to have wasted your time. That’s right I said it because your eyes reading through this document means that I am one step closer to some form of social interaction than I was an hour ago when I left my dad’s house in search of a place to be around people. (Although, I do feel bad about it because I’d like for you to be interested in my project of course, I’m egocentric can you really blame me).

So here’s to a fresh start, a new life, a new beginning even if it wasn’t the one I had been hoping for before I entered into college. Ramble on.