Something

We've obviously become a little distracted by school and the like. Something that's been on my mind lately as I've been missing my college-shackled buddies is how much we get entwined in the lives of those we care about. That old trite aphorism rings in my ears: "Make new friends but keep the old; one is silver and the other's gold." When I was little I was very confused by which was which. Were the old friends gold, or only silver? Whether by a sad penchant for nostalgia or otherwise, I find myself with a strong connection to a relatively small group of friends that I have bonded with over the past five years or so. Some longer, some shorter. While I support the idea of embracing the present and making new friends, there is something about those who have known you through some of your most formative years. There's no exposition necessary. They've seen you at your highest and lowest, when you're at your most beautiful and when you were a total prick. And while it might seem like this could get boring, it's oddly comforting for me. Maybe it's like a marriage.

Another point I enjoy pondering is whether you would rather live in endless infatuation with someone, or dwell in the familiarity but potentially passionlessness of a committed relationship. Most people answer with the latter (it is what most of us hope to have in the long run), and while I largely agree there is something undeniable about the fire of infatuation. Maybe it stems from my relative lack of experience in the dating world, but it's almost like a reversion back to innocence. Like the first time you tried cotton candy, or went to a baseball game, or made a cd with your best friends in a band. You know what I'm talking about. Like you're part of something so much bigger, but all that matters is that your little piece of the puzzle is perfect. I'm not saying it's unattainable in the long run, but the newness is refreshing.

Maybe one of the problems is that my mind is very cinematic. Give me a moment, and I'll give you the perfect song for it. And because of this, I keep looking for the perfect ending. Not like a Hollywood bimbo in a fast car, but the whole near-death battle-scarred end of the world love affair with John Williams composing the score. Or maybe Zach Braff can put together an indie soundtrack. The point is that this produces a host of problems when you come back to the real world. Keep in mind, this is from a writer musician with a propensity for the depressing, but it's true on at least some plane.

If you're looking for the South Park moral at the end, I suppose a balance is important. Ideally relationships will inhabit both the infatuation and the commitment (as well as the intimate for all you psych students out there) to form the consummate. And yes, dreaming and poetry and even self-doubt are important brushstrokes along the way towards the unveiling, but you can't live in an escape. Or perhaps this all just proves to show my indecision and curse as the eternal moderate. Maybe it's time for bed. Maybe you're pretty cool if you read all this. Maybe we should be silver friends, and given enough time, perhaps a bit more.

jbk