Maybe, Sometimes, It's You

Apologies. Truly.

I am going to gripe. I am undoubtedly going to employ a great many words to do so - it is the nature of the beast.

I am not a particularly negative person. I have been accused, frequently, of being a Pollyanna. Once I snapped at a confidant, after dealing with someone who was determined to treat me as though I had the cognitive abilities of stuffed cabbage, "WHY do people treat me like I'm an idiot?" She sighed and said, "It's because you're always so happy. People figure you can't possibly have a clue about what's going on. Happy people generally aren't very bright."

I beg to differ. Any idiot can, and usually does, find fault, complain, bicker and just generally exude negativity. Being cheerful takes hard, teeth gritting, exhaustive effort.

Yet, by some fluke of nature or nurture, I am most eloquent, and most likely to communicate, when I'm angry.

Right now, try as I might to avoid it, I am ticked off.

As much as I dislike, and in general, avoid, new technologies, I am loving Facebook. I get to see, sometimes on a daily basis, what's going on with friends who are sometimes halfway across the world. A friend had a baby today, and I saw photos while his age was still measured in hours. I don't carry a cellular phone, I have never experienced Twitter, but Facebook, I enjoy.

I have found and renewed contact with so many people from high school, college theater and other endeavors in my past. It's delightful.

Except when it isn't.

I renewed contact with one particular high school friend, and talked - OK, typed - almost daily about kids, spouses, current events and nothing in particular. I remembered this friend as quick witted and funny, but I think they've gotten quicker and funnier over the years. I would laugh out loud frequently. I remarked often to my husband that it was such a delight to be back in touch.

Sometimes, this friend would comment on my blog. Blogging is still brand new to me. Letting people "hear" what's inside my head in such an impersonal forum takes some getting used to, and it's nice to find out what my friends think. I think it's made easier by the fact that I am just generally a Too Much Information person, so I'm not fretting about privacy.

My husband often frets about privacy. He's always tried NOT to let people know what he's thinking, because if people know what you're thinking, someone will disagree with you, and might even think less of you. He worries, sometimes, when he reads my stuff - "Do you really want to let people know that?"

Me? I remember growing up terrified that people would dislike me or disapprove of something about me. I was painfully, don't-look-at-me-don't-talk-to-me-don't-acknowledge-my-existence shy in elementary school. Having two friends at once felt like a party. As I got older, I cared less about what people in general thought of me, but still worried deeply about what my friends thought. Adulthood brought so many things - kids, at the top of the list - that truly mattered into my life, and I had less time to worry about stuff that didn't matter. Since I've been a parent for far more than half my life, well, the adolescent, overwrought worries are long gone.

Now, for better or worse, I truly don't care who agrees with me or what they think of my choices. This is good, because I think pettiness of any kind is juvenile and because so few of my friends live a life that looks anything like mine. I do not have to agree with people to love them. I can't imagine that they feel compelled to agree with me.

I'm also - and this can't be entirely good, born as it is out of ugly experiences - willing to just cut a relationship loose. If it's not working for one or both of us, if it doesn't enrich life somehow, goodbye. Generally, I'm a friend for life. I'm not going to sever contact over any little (or even big) difference, but I will if you make me (or my family) consistently miserable. Life's too short.

So. Back to this newfound old friend.

After conversing almost daily, the conversation stopped, dead in its tracks, the day after a blog post - the post that mentioned my lack of a college degree.

I've been through this before. The post even mentioned one such instance. People suddenly wonder what's wrong with them that they would find me interesting. They wonder how badly they're "slipping" that they found what I have to say relevent or funny. Or, they become convinced that I'm an egotist putting on a show, pretending to be funny and interesting, sitting here with a thesaurus next to me so I can use big, impressive words. Or they begin to fret about what a waste it is, because I used to have so much potential.

It's exhausting. It's annoying.

Don't even think about telling me that, "You can't blame people, yada yada yada." I'm in no mood. I've heard that before, too.

Of course, I could be making faulty assumptions. Maybe I said something offensive - I have very little filter on my thoughts. Maybe my friend is suddenly, incredibly busy. Maybe when I continue to respond to status updates and such, their kids are bleeding or something.

But probably not.

I can't help but think, "Really? This again?"

I don't think I've suffered the 21st century equivalent of shunning, being "un-friended" on Facebook. But I miss my friend already.