I never thought it would come to this. You see, I'm not the blogging type. However, my time in self-inflicted solitude has inevitably worn away at my previous inhibitions on the matter. So I figure I might as well rant a little to feel like I’m actually interacting with people.
Hollow? Yes.
Creepy? Maybe a little.
Effective? I have yet to see.
So I’m living in Texas right now. Texas, the “Don’t mess with…” one. You have to understand that I’m from Michigan, NOT Texas. I’m used to being surrounded by people that I know, people I understand, people that I am comfortable with and who are comfortable with me. I like to think that I am rather good at making new friends, but it seems that there are few friends to be easily made down here.
I’ve adopted some peculiar liminal state in which those I associate with on a
daily basis are in their upper 30s to late 50s. I rest precariously at the weaning age of 20. It is not that these people are not friendly and helpful; indeed they have generosity in spades. No, the issue is that it is hard to relate to them. They’re all married, with KIDS. I can just see the conversation unfolding:
Me: Hey Chuck! Whatchya up to tonight? Wanna hang out?
Chuck: Umm… I have to take my little girl to ballet, then I’ve got tons of yard work to do for my wife…
Chuck: What exactly do you have in mind?
Me: I don’t know, what do you do for fun Chuck?
Chuck: Well, I get home from work and play with my daughter, then make dinner, and then usually watch a movie or something with my wife.
Me: Oh, that’s cool. I probably wouldn’t be invited to any of that, huh?
Chuck: Might be a little strange, yeah.
Me: Good…
So here I lay, sprawled out on a gray-sheeted Serta mattress I scavenged from a local dumpster, at midnight, on a Saturday night, clacking away at on my old Dell laptop, hoping that through this mental exercise I may connect somehow with the outside world in a meaningful way.
“Whoa”, you might be saying. “Meaningful…?? We aren’t ...
[ Continued ]