The last entry was philosophical. This one is more just sort of rambling memories...
It's interesting to think that the people who know me now know so little about me. While there are a few stories they've probably heard me tell over and over, that is such a small portion of who I am, what I've seen and what I've experienced and who I've done all of that with, that it's almost a wonder that they know me at all.
Some of my friends know or sense the wild, impetuous parts of me. But they don't know the stuff I've done that puts that side of me on show (versus the pretty calculated, organized, precise person they usually see). There are the impetuous romantic interludes (Tahoe Bob, San Diego's fling, Jamaica guy, etc.). There's the buying of the ridiculously expensive car just because I had money burning a hole in my pocket from a stock sale. There's the various places I've gone to on a whim (mine, theirs or joint).
Some of who I am was definitely influenced by friends who were important in my life at various points. All of their colorful ways and stories and ideas have influenced and saturated my life in some spectacularly TechniColor ways. Some people have heard about the psycho-knife-wielding-ex-best-friend-from-hell. Some have heard the various and sundry Carl stories - of which I was sometimes a part (i.e. the seeing the same cops twice in one night due to "dukes of hazzards shit", or the weekend of Lake Elizabeth stories with Carl and Matt wearing 12pack cartons for shoes, or Carl skiing down a mountain with his ski pants barely held on such that you could see his red briefs, etc.) and sometimes of which I merely heard (sometimes 2nd and 3rd hand - like the kicking the bowling ball story, the tearing the doors off his car story, the not getting busted when the cops saw drugs in his car story, the receiving all copies of a ticket story, etc.).
It kind of makes me sad that many of the people who played such significant roles in various stories in my life no longer have roles in my life. I know that for the most part these were necessary transitions, but it still makes me sad to not be around and friends with the people who knew the Kenny-killer stories, or who were there when I had the personal triumph of living through a white-water-rafting experience that I thought I couldn't handle and did anyway. I'm sad to not be able to reminisce with the boyfriend who shared the last-minute trip to San Diego on a 3 day weekend. I'm sad not to party with Trish anymore - she who threw kegs, did cartwheels in public bathrooms, made buttons for us with memorable sayings on them, and who helped invent the "soowee" rule for playing Quarters in the cabin.
I'm sad not to still have my best grade-school friend Heidi still in my life - someone who would remember me with braces, who might remember me as hopeful and optimistic instead of pessimistic and pragmatic. I miss the friend who would remember staying up all night talking about grade school and junior high boyfriends, about various firsts we experienced as friends (first kiss, first sex, first real boyfriends, first breakup, etc.). I want her to know how I turned out as a grown-up, and I'd like to see how she (and her kids and husband) turned out.
I miss the girlfriend that I used to talk on the phone to nightly such that we'd watch the same sitcoms at the same time and be quiet during the show and talk during commercials. I miss not only her but her awesome group of friends that all went to Cabo for her 30th birthday celebration where we made play-doh penises, had "party" names and all went into "The Office" together.
I wonder how many of the awesome stories and memories and fun times I've now forgotten. One of the joys of having long-term, enduring friends is that you can refresh each others' memories. I'm missing the people in my life who could help validate that the things I remember really happened - both the good and the bad things. I almost feel like I should start chronicling my memories in as much detail as I can so that when I get old and can't remember (god-forbid I get Alzheimers), that I have a possibility of keeping some of those experiences that made me who I am fresh in my mind.
Posted by cshell at August 1, 2006 10:55 PM