The following entry is part of 20SB's blog swap. I was partnered up with Annie Kee from Boston, MA. 20SB obviously did this because us Boston kids are fucking awesome, and should only be allowed to interact with one another. Check out her blog here, she was dope enough to feature me as well.
So, I suffer from an inherent self-deprecation that sometimes makes making friends kind of hard.
Or keeping friends.
Or even understanding that I have friends.
Let me give you an example.
When I went to London, during the summer between my sophomore and junior years of college, a TOTALLY FAMOUS classmate of mine, Julia, also came. She was a year ahead of me and had been in EVERY play I saw at Berkeley.
She was gorgeous, talented, and HILARIOUS. And I was awe-struck.
We had a total blast with the group in London, although she had a roommate that she became very close with and I just assumed we weren’t as close as I thought we were. She spent a lot of time with some of the other TOTALLY FAMOUS people from the department, and I always thought it was because she just had to be a part of the theatre department glitterati.
When we returned to the States and I realized she was my next door neighbor, my negative assumptions continued. She spent time with the “beautiful people,” and I was just the girl in charge of the shoestring student theatre company that performed in a choral rehearsal hall.
Anyway, it took me months to realize we were actually friends because I was so busy being enamored of her.
(Now, she’s actually TOTALLY FAMOUS, doing lots of theatre work in LA. Go, Julia!)
Frankly, Facebook has exacerbated this problem.
I have a strict (stupid) policy about not friending people from my past lives.
It’s like, they understand that we have mutual friends, so they should friend me. If they don’t want to friend me, well, then I don’t want to be Facebook friends with them either!
When did I become a 7-year-old?
Anyway, in lieu of friending them, I do the Facebook stalk.
I am morbidly curious about what old school and camp friends are up to.
Because, of course, it’s got to be infinitely more exciting and significant than what I’m doing.
I like to look up the ones that always seemed much cooler than me. The ones I literally haven’t seen in 13 years.
I pore over pictures, check out relationship statuses, try to match these young men and women’s fit bodies (they’re all so fit!) and grown-up faces (when did we get old?) with the awkward 14-year-olds I once knew.
I envy most the ones who are still totally friends with each other.
The girls I went to summer camp and high school with, for instance, were all in each other weddings. Their Facebook pictures have captions like “Friends since the 2nd grade” and “Friends forever.”
They get together on weekends and sit in the park with boys and dogs. They travel to places like Colorado, to go on ski trips, and Vegas, to dance and gamble.
I have a lot of past lives, so this Facebook stalking takes up a lot of time.
It’s amazing I get anything done these days.