(I actually wrote a drunken rant that is probably one of the most self-pitying things I’ve ever written. But I’m posting it anyway. I’m really not looking for sympathy, by the way, just don’t want to censor my life in this case. Everyone’s a neurotic mess sometimes, especially me.)
I’ve mentioned this before, but I like my independence, and I like being perceived as kinda kick-ass and self-sufficient. But it’s really not the case sometimes. Last night (well, this night, really, as I wrote this in the wee hours, immediately after getting home), I had an extended moment, a near panic attack, really, with accompanying hyperventilation and tears, that maybe I won’t ever share a deep understanding, a bed, a life with any one other person and it scared the living shit out of me.
When I got my job as Simian Coordinator (not the official title), I was suddenly an ‘other’ in the circle of friends in the cinema, because I was the boss (often) and wasn’t sitting in the downstairs office, sharing meals and chitchat, with everyone else on weekends or in the evenings. I never really filled that gap, so I don’t often have people say ‘hey, do you wanna go for a beer?’. I’m totally dependent on accidentally overhearing or butting into a conversation and trying to get included. It’s sad (in a pathetic, rather than tearful way) and pretty immature, but as my older friends (not necessarily old, just ones I’ve known a long time) are all married and/or sprogging and/or very far away, just stopping for a beer at 7pm on a Thursday with them a bit tricky. Or they’ve found new besties that they can relate to better. Because I’m pretty…difficult? weird? not meant for this country/universe? much of the time. I don’t have much interest in the things that my peers and friends do (outside of weekly pub quiz and SUMMER BIKE TRIPS IN JULY TO KINGSTON WOO). It’s lonely in the dork quandrant, especially when one’s dorkery is not very Canadian.
Example, I’ve asked several people (including Twitter at large) if anyone would go see Dave Gorman at Just for Laughs with me next month, fully knowing that 90% of the people I know haven’t a clue who that is, and most of the other 10% don’t live in this country and wouldn’t be able to go (and possibly .5% are too cheap or don’t want to go with me specifically). That’s tricky. And yes, I could go on my own, but I am fucking tired of always going to things on my own. So fucking tired. I had wanted to go to the prohibitively expensive Edinburgh Fringe this summer, but I couldn’t in a million years find someone to go with me. I went alone 4 years ago, which was fine, if a bit quiet, but I’d like someone to share that with, y’know?
Not much can immediately be done, I just needed to get it off my chest and turn a very rare crying jag into something of note, even if that’s just a blog post.
In other news, I follow celebrity gossip a bit, but the Tom Cruise/Katie Holmes has caught my attention more than anything in that realm in YEARS. How exciting other people’s misery and contract ends are sometimes. I hope she and Suri thrive after of this, especially since (allegedly) a lot of the battle is about Katie wanting to send the wee girl to SCHOOL, like, y’know, like those place children learn things in. (The fact that she’s six and not in school is a mite worrying, no?) Also, I want a Dawson’s Creek reunion, even if a certain character (played by an Oscar-nominated actress) is dead, and the show, it turns out, was actually fairly awful (SORRY PACEY I LOVE YOU FOREVER).