A little less than two weeks ago the following was the opening to a blog entry I decided not to post:
Less than four months ago I was living amongst a sea of single people. Today, the sea has dried up, my friends have paired off and I am thinking of throwing myself a pity party. The single friends I still have unfortunately seem to live in different time zones, southern hemispheres or way across the Bay Bridge. And while I hope to someday join this chummy club of couple-dom, it is not my restricted entry that has me down. Rather, it is the rapid-fire pace at which many of my friends coupled off, and my inability to keep pace and adjust to the changes. As my friends redefine their priorities, balancing my personal sense of loss with my genuine happiness and desire to be a supportive friend is quite the internal struggle – one that often strikes on days like today – the overcast lazy Sunday.
The rest of my blog entry simultaneously embodied my proposed “pity party” as well as my hope that in time everyone (myself included) would adjust to the new coupled terrain. Today I am happy to report that some semblance of status quo has indeed been restored.
A sense of calm has returned to other aspects of my life as well. The onset of a cold left me tired and unable to workout for quite a few days a week ago – a recipe for a moody Leah. Finally, really exciting days at work (that I wish I was allowed to blog about) have been intermingling with extremely monotonous days, and that had my energy levels all over the map. You would think a day with little to do at work would be nice and relaxing, but I crave the craze, the deadlines – and after a day of staring dumbfounded at my computer I often leave work as a zombie, crashing into my bed rather than re-energyzing for the coming evening. A high level of excitement is steady at work these days – stressful but fun.
And despite this inner feeling of calm and satisfaction, much is changing all around me.
The school year is ending, and for the first time in my life this isn’t supposed to mean anything to me – although my internal clock still beats in time with the school-year calendar. Unfortunately all the students who entertain me at work will pack up for summer, some that I enjoy will not return, and I will be forced to bother Kim on instant messenger more that I do already.
Many of my friends will start or restart graduate programs in the fall. Two friends are off to Seattle, one to Denver, one to Boston (Cardinal and Crimson Danika?). Who is going to rock climb with me? Watching friends get ready for school combined with my own renewed excitement about returning for a PhD makes for an antsy Leah.
My oldest friend, Breanne, is getting married in a few weeks. It doesn't feel so long ago that we plastered our lockers with holiday countdown calendars featuring the likes of Leo, Matt Damon, Chipper Jones, and Garfield (9th-12th grade) or played name that country music tune on the Manzanita Playground (2nd grade). She can't get married - we never finished our screenplay about the Russian Revolution. We weren't nerds, really!
My friend Kevin returned from “the ice” this past weekend. While the work sounds exhausting, his description of our southernmost continent leads me to believe it resembles The Cal Band on steroids – probably with a smaller inter-marriage percentage. Spending the past weekend with Kevin, Travis and The Hunz reminded me of “the good ole days” (if I am old enough to say that) but also reminded me why I can’t hang with the boys so often anymore. Not only can I no longer keep up with their alcohol intake, I also have a hard time differentiating between poker and blackjack while intoxicated and as fun as “Guitar Hero” is on Playstation, it just doesn’t do it for me as an activity to be repeated for three hours. In the past few years I finally gave up trying to be “one of the guys” because I realized that when you have “dated” (and I use this word loosely) one or many of the guys in your immediate friend group, you kinda forfeit that status. But if there ever was someone capable of dating the guys whilst being one of them, it would be me. I say this like I am proud, but when I think about it, that might explain my single status – oh well.
I think this might just be the most discursive entry I have written yet. Good luck finding a common theme amongst this jumble. But finally, before I rush off to cure my bout of overcaffienation, I wanted to dedicate this entry to my Citizens Jeans. Two nights ago, an era ended – I discovered a hole in my original pair of designer jeans. Yes, they were about an inch shorter than ideal and their color was fading, but they were perfect in their own special way.
