I swear I haven't given up...

I just don't have much going on right now--it's all been more of the same.  I'm thinking mostly about all the same things: money, jobs, hockey, men, and friends.  Oh and Sweden.

That's not to say that I'm not very creative.  I've always considered myself a pretty creative person, but the last thing I want is for this blog to be artificial.  I want it to reflect me, my sense of humor, my present struggles or joys or just...whatever I'm actually thinking about.  I don't want to CREATE a topic just so I can have something to write about (which is one reason why I'll never be able to make money from writing).

There is something I've been thinking about though.  It's something that has taken so many manifestations in my life in the last few months that I think I need to sit down and work it out.  This issue is, once again, related to my friendships.  But more specifically, it's about how my friendships change.

I've had the same best friend since I was ten years old.  Sure, there have been times when we drifted a bit, but the last time I genuinely felt like we weren't best friends was way back in middle school, after I moved away from our neighborhood and she moved away from our town.  Especially for young people, that distance should have effectively ended our friendship.  I think maybe over the course of one year, we only spoke a few times, and mostly on the internet (Palace Chat, anyone?), but just because we realized we really didn't want to grow apart, somehow we both started making an effort to grow closer again.  Part of it is because we could probably go for years without talking, and when we spoke again, everything would feel the same.  It's inexplicable and special.

As lovely as that all sounds, I do have other close friends.  I wish that I could say that I'm as attentive to all of them as I should be, but I'm not.  It has nothing to do with loss of interest or loss of affection.  I have only ever purposely ended one friendship in my whole life, and these days, I'm beginning to regret that decision.  Like the karmic forces of the universe are paying me back for how I handled that situation.  But this person I cut out of my life was horrible to me in many ways, and in the end, I think it was genuinely beneficial for both of us that we aren't friends.  In actuality, I think if said forces are messing with me for any reason, it should be because I have neglected actually meaningful relationships in my life.

There's a lot more I could say on the topic, but I'm feeling conflicted and guilty right now, so I'll just leave you with my conflict and guilt.  At other times I feel angry and justified, and still at others, I feel bittersweet pangs of nostalgia.  The way things used to be--on one hand, reminiscing gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling inside, but on the other, it leaves me hollow because things can almost never be the way they used to be.  That's why they are not still currently that way.  Something changed.  Something shifted.  And usually that something is irreversible.  I'm not saying it's always a bad change, of course, and I am definitely NOT saying that it can't be overcome or...managed, I guess is a more appropriate word.  If my best friend and I had never changed or dealt with the many shifts in our friendship, then we'd still be ditching each other on the playground as 20-somethings, and that would be...awkward.

I guess the bottom line I'm trying to reach is this: I love my friends, even if I sometimes get caught up in other crap.  Even though people change and relationships change, those people and those relationships are still important to me, and I can only hope that as I change, I'm still important to the people who are important to me.

Patience is a virtue...

AND I HATE IT.

I haven't had much to talk about because my mind has been consumed by a total of two things: money (or lack thereof) and hockey.  But somehow the subject of patience falls under the "money" category because I'm waiting for the day when I make wads of cash.


Preferably they will not be ones, but I'll take it...

It's unfortunate that I've racked up some tens of thousands of dollars in student loans for something like a top-rate education that has literally gotten me nothing in return.  It's more than unfortunate.  It really, really sucks.  My whole life, I believed I had to go to college to get a good job.  Here I am, a shiny, new-ish degree in hand, and I'm jobless (more or less), while my friends who don't have college degrees are making more money than I am and receiving benefits (of which I have none) at their full-time jobs (of which I also obviously have none).  I'm not saying they don't deserve those jobs--they do!  I'm proud of them, and I'm glad they have those jobs!  All I'm saying is I thought that with a degree I'd be a desirable candidate for SOME kind of job that earns me more than minimum-wage, even if it is JUST a liberal arts degree.

Frustrated and impatient.  That's how I feel.

The glue that holds me together...

Is apparently nonexistent.  This is going to be a shorter post than others.  I just want to work this out a bit.  I've been thinking lately about cohesion in relation to...me.  I listened to my ipod on random for about two hours today.  The first song was "Maybe Memories" by The Used.  It's a "post-hardcore" screamy anthem, speaking to living in the present, looking toward the future, and not looking back or regretting things like eating beans before an interview or accidentally using poison ivy leaves as toilet paper (it's actually probably about former drug habits or the like, but let's just pretend it's less serious than that).  To give you an idea of what that song might sound like, this is the lead singer Bert McCracken screaming (not singing) something:

He's screaming, "I HATE SHOWERS!"  Probably.  Or maybe, "I'M AWESOOOOME!"

So that was the first song.  And I totally rocked out to it and thought about not looking back at skipping so many classes in college (wah-wah).  Then the next song came on, and it was "Sexual Healing" by the great Marvin Gaye.  No explanation necessary--if you don't know what "Sexual Healing" sounds like, then we probably shouldn't be friends anymore.  The next song that came on was "The High Road" by Broken Bells.  I actually have no idea what it's about because I only know half of the lyrics, but it's a mellow, sort of electronic but mostly just...awesome type of song.  Here.  The musical equivalent of judging a book by its cover.  Tell me what you think they sound like:

Other than awesome, I'd say they sound...really awesome. 
How they make beep-beeps and boop-boops without a synthesizer present, I'll never know.

Then after that tasty little diddy, there was Sara Bareilles with "Gravity".  A sweet, heartbreaking piano ballad that makes me want to cry for days at a time (I'm still crying, in fact).  Her voice-of-an-angel plus her piano-playing-of-an-angel equals best-song-ever-if-you-have-your-own-sad-love-story.  Then there were others: The Starting Line (usually-upbeat pop-punk), Mumford and Sons (BANJOOOS!), Leona Lewis (crazy amazing diva singing), Jay-Z (best rapper alive--debate.  Now.  Go.), Sarah Brightman (her Broadway era--yes, I have showtunes on my ipod).  And so on and so forth.

I actually, out loud, asked myself, "WHAT IS HAPPENING?" in all caps.  There is little to no cohesion in my musical taste.  There is no single element that draws these songs/artists together except, "I like this."  And the lack of cohesion extends beyond my musical taste.  Take this blog, for example.  What is the bonding factor?  It's mostly just me talking at my computer (via my fingers) about things from hockey to Sweden to woe-is-me sob stuff.  There is no bonding factor except, "I like talking about this."

I guess I just have to face the fact that I'm a weirdo.  I like what I like, and I don't need a reason.  I just like it.  SO THERE.