September 27th, 2002. Friday
Right now, I'm listening to very listenable Coldplay songs. I feel somehow dirty. The songs are catchy, and it feels like almost no thought went into them at all. That's not necessarily a bad thing. It just seems like they have a very easy time writing very pleasant and textured pop songs. The melodies, while I've only heard them a few times, are the kind of melodies that make you nostalgic for something. Especially on a cold, rainy day.In a somewhat related note, I was going through my journal backlogs the other day, and noticed that somewhere in August there started to be gaping holes in the chronicling of events. This stemmed from the usual and periodic paranoia of being discovered by people I don't want to be discovered by. Anyway, I started to think about the summer. The two big unexplored occurences were two falling outs. If you hadn't noticed, there's been a total lack of mentions of both Caryn and Rodzilla in recent months. Well, Rodzilla was more recent, though it would have been more fitting if she'd been first.
While the Rodzilla fallout made sense and was long, long overdue, the schism with Caryn was more of a mystery. Though in some regards, I suppose it had been brewing for some time, and as is usual with these sorts of things, it was some stupid little issue that pushed the whole thing over the top. The last conversation took place while I was at the beach at the end of June. It was a bit snippy, and we said we'd talk later. Well, after four days of neither of us calling, it was clear that it had become some sort of pissing contest. Since I've known her, it had been rare that we would even go two days without speaking. I almost called a few times, but some sort of perverse curiousity made me want to wait to see how long this would go on. And days turned into weeks, and now it's been three months since we've spoken. And really, when people ask me what happened, I really don't know what to tell them. My initial response is "I don't know, really." But I guess she'd been getting annoyed with me for a while, and I with her, for various reasons. There's no denying that she was a very good friend to me, and helped me in countless ways. But toward the end there, I felt like I was being constantly reminded of that fact, verbally and directly. And I didn't like that. I felt like everything was tit-for-tat, and I don't respond to that very well. In any sense. Meaning, I didn't like it, and I reacted poorly to it. Anyway, there was an interesting article in the Times that someone forwarded me last month, about when it's just necessary for friends to "break up." Though the article's points didn't really seem to apply, i cite it whenever people ask what happened.
The Rodzilla thing- should have stopped talking altogether a long time ago. We weren't meant to be friends. And I started feeling very indignant every time I saw her or spoke to her. I guess it doesn't need much more explaining. Of course, it's much easier since she moved to Boston. I wonder what sort of closure would've been possible if she were still in New York.
So anyway, two once dear friends completely out of my life. There was a time when this sort of thing would've made me terribly sad and functioning on a normal level would've been pretty tough. But, in the past two years, I'd learned over time to really not care. So for the most part it's been quite easy to just stop seeing or talking to people. Part of the reason this has been almost no problem is that in both cases, by the time things ended, I'd already formed a bad opinion of my relationship with them. It's not like we're enemies or anything. I think. We're just no longer friends. I'm a bit worried that this attitude will result in protracted and ironic bouts of loneliness. But if memory serves, I've been pretty lonely for the past few years now anyway.
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