| |
|
|
|
|
| |
SaturdayFebruary
22, 2003
|
It's been a really
busy few days, so I'm sorry that I haven't written.
One thing I've been really busy getting together and settled
is my move. Yes, I am moving to my own little apartment to finally
live without roommates. This is exciting for me because I haven't
lived with LESS than five roommates in four years, and now I
will know what it feels like to be on my own, just paying my
own bills, having my own space, having silence when I want it,
making noise when I want to. I am exhilirated by the idea, and
I'm moving one week from today with absolutely no clue how the
hell I'm going to get all my things over there.
I don't feel all that healthy physically, and I'm trying to
avoid freaking out about it because that makes it worse. This
weather is fucking with me. There's a record-breaking snow storm,
then it's 50 degrees. I've remained bundled up to avoid getting
sick, but I think it's coming for me anyway. I'm fighting it
off. I'm drinking water and popping echinacea-goldenseal and
vitamin C like candy. (No, not too much, I know it can be toxic
if you over do it.) The next few days is operation health and
hydration. I drank more than I should last night. Did not get
wasted, got warm and fuzzy, maybe a little drunk, but without
the acting crazy, without the crying, without the blacking out
(not that I ever black out anyway.) I just felt...heavy, you
know?
Last night was the Bostonian show. It's always strange to see
the group singing these songs you don't know, seeing faces within
the group that you've never seen, that you had no say as to
whether or not they joined this family you helped build in the
time you spent in it. Here we were, a large group of alumni
gathered to support the current group, something that always
felt amazing when I was in the group, but it's quite a strange
and sad feeling from this side of the diploma. Honestly, you
feel like a loser. You don't feel like the cool older kids coming
back, you feel like the washed-out graduates who still want
to get wasted at beer games with students who were born the
year Back to the Future came out. Scary. So, we experienced
the typical emotions of Bostonian alumni: displacement, confusion,
insecurity. We were puzzled by how little the current group
seemed to care that we were there, how little they felt like
talking to us, learning who we were. Then I remembered being
in the group, and how the alumni were always so bitter that
we didn't care when we remembered caring. So, I guess it's just
inevitable that one feels that way - in each position. I looked
around the room at my fellow Bostonians, the ones I got in the
group with, the ones that shaped the group with me into the
family we loved so much, the one that consumed my entire college
experience, the one that taught me the lessons of friendship,
of teamwork, of passion, of the power of music among lovers
of sound. I looked at them and felt sad for us. Together, we
were a group - we were still the group we were, still possessing
the memory of every note we ever sang, every song we ever recreated
with nothing but the intricate rhythms of tone and syllabols.
However, we were scattered, broken off, lacking the stage that
kept us together. We were a team without a field to play on,
and we all longed to be remembered and loved.
Other things have been bothering me. A lot has been weighing
on my head in general this past week. It's been difficult to
articulate - you know how it feels when your mind spins and
you can't catch the emotions to wrap them in a sentence. I've
been worried about things like money, like schedule, like time
in general. Last night, I worried about friendship. You always
hear that when you grow up, groups of friends start to separate
as they couple with a loved one - and that person becomes almost
everything to them. You split into pairs, and independent friendships
become less common, more specific, and in some cases - nonexistent.
Then there are those friendships that disappear and come back.
It's like the person just vanishes even though they're still
in the same apartment, still have their same schedule, still
live the same life - but without you for some reason.
But every time that person drifts away, you can't help but wonder
if they'll come back. You think, "Is this the end this
time?" And there never is a reason. It's one of those "life"
things. One of those "People drift apart" things that
never makes sense, but it's supposed to for some reason. As
in, it doesn't make sense but that's the point, or something.
Who knows? Well, I've been thinking of some friendships that
just don't seem to be there anymore. And though you want to
believe they'll come back, start missing you, start wanting
to talk to you all the time like they used to, you can't help
but think that this person you love just has found other things
to focus on loving. Where there was once room for you, there
isn't anymore. However, I'm not going to be around forever for
these things to ebb and flow and whatever pace. I'm going to
be gone in September, and if those friendships don't return
before then, it may really be an "end." It doesn't
have to be, by any means. I mean, with cheap plane tickets and
the internet, nothing is really so final, but you know it isn't
the same. You think, "Start calling me back," "Let's
go out before we don't have that opportunity anymore."
But when someone is coupled off, it's hard to make them see.
The most confusing part - I totally understand, and I wonder
if I am or would be the same way. It's just not easy. Not much
is anymore, if you think about it.
I'm afraid my job is going to fire me. I have some opportunities
coming up that I need to take. (I will tell you more about these
when things are signed away and definite.) I've told work that
I have these types of things in my life and that I will be having
to take off from work a bunch and in clumps of days. They are
aware of that as a general fact, but I don't think it'll make
it easier when I tell them the dates. I'll have to take a lot
of time off, but when I return, I need to still have this job.
I'll need it. Money is really fucking tight, and as much as
I would love to not waitress, I have to. I really can't lose
my job. I have to tell my boss today what's going on, and I've
gone over how I'm going to present it to him about four billion
times, but I know I'll be a studdering loser when I'm actually
standing in front of him. I'm going to be begging, and I still
don't know what will happen. I'll know tonight, but I'm scared.
I'm just wondering what the fuck I'm going to do if he says
it's too complicated and inconsistent and that I shouldn't work
there anymore. I mean, what the fuck am I going to do?? I'm
not nearly as stressed right now as I've been before. I mean,
if it doesn't work out, then I'll just have to come up with
something else. I don't know what, but I'll come up with something,
right?
I'm scared as shit about the national anthem in a few days.
Are you kidding - this shit is SO scary? First off, it's the
most difficult song on the planet to sing. I don't feel great.
It's the biggest performance I've ever had and I haven't performed
in over a year. I'm definitely congested. Shit, I have to fight
this shit. I have a feeling working in a smoky bar tonight isn't
going to help things. Shit. Shit. Shit. Money. damn.
I'm going to practice more and go to sleep for a few hours.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
