Hmmm...
So I managed to lock myself out of my room tonight. Yeah, yeah, smart me. I had a moment of panic as Christi and I went up to dinner, thinking that I'd forgotten to put my student i.d. in my wallet. Well, I was right. My student i.d. was in my pocket--my wallet was in my room. Oops.
After dinner I started a whirlwind search for my roommate. Okay, so I could've used up my free lock-out (after the first time you make someone open your door for you they start charging), but then I'd have to wait around by the security desk until whoever happens to be on call makes their sorry way down and lets me in. Nuh-uh. So I called the room--no answer. Checked the practice rooms--no sign. Checked the library and found my mom, who wanted company while she ate dinner since she was stuck on campus (after she totalled the van, my dad's been giving her rides to and from campus in the 'Stang), and since I couldn't do anything without getting into my room anyway, I accompanied her down to Murphy's. I'd already eaten, so I didn't have anything, but we sat and talked. And I worked a lot of things out with her.
People my age, especially (though it is intergenerational), like to complain about their parents. It's what you do, you know? "Oh, God, my parents. Could anyone be more [obstinate/dorky/idiotic/maddening]? I mean, look at all this [stupid/stubborn/horrible] stuff they're [doing/making me do]..." You can't complain about your classmates, seeing as they all know where you sleep, so parents (and professors) are the best choice. And I can complain about my dad. He and I are so much alike in our personalities, yet so different in how we do things that we clash horribly. I mean, stubborness, hot-headedness, power plays--we do it all. But even when I'm horribly mad at her (usually for taking my dad's side in some argument), I can't complain about my mom. She's just too helpful, smart, and understanding. Somehow she always knows exactly how I'm feeling and can guess why and has a wonderful solution for me. She can bring me down when I'm feeling overly "passionate" (her word for it) about something--usually something I'm angry about--and bring me up when I'm feeling down about stuff.
Anyway, without naming names (though the letters A and I come to mind...) we worked out that there is a reason that I'm the one to go through all this drama: my personality. Not that I'm making mountains out of molehills (though I do that, on occasion) or even making molehills out of anthills, but that I've got the type of personality that is attractive to people who've got a lot of pain in their lives. And things are peachy as long as they stay pretty superficial--hanging out, the occasional serious comversation, but nothing too personal. Because I'm a strong person--it (seemingly) takes a lot to throw me off (though mostly that's just my superb acting skills)--people look at me as someone who they can depend on, someone that they can lean on, someone they can admire, to whom they can aspire to be like. But if things go beyond the superficial mark, if I start trying to be real friends with them, to become more "intimate" (my mother's word) with them, I get really scary. Because it would be so easy for me to hurt them, but seemingly not so easy for them to hurt me. In their eyes I could "take it", no matter what they throw at me, but it scares them witless to think of what I could do to them with what I know about them. And then, what gets even more scary, is when I can't take it--when I become vulnerable and all of a sudden their rock, the strong-woman that they assumed could take anything, is feeling just as hurt as they feel. If someone that strong is feeling that low, how low could I go?
And, looking at the evidence, who's been my friend for the longest time? Liz Reimer, since the 3rd grade. Why? Because she's so much like me--she's a strong woman, too. We get together and just have fun. We can talk about the serious stuff, but we don't need to. We know each other well enough to know exactly how the other thinks, and all it takes is a little bit of gossip to keep ourselves caught up on the news, then we can go and do stuff. Like ice skating, or driving, or shopping...we just have fun. Because we know that we're old friends and that no matter what we'll be there for each other and we don't have to constantly remind each other of that fact. We don't create drama for ourselves, we help each other get through drama that comes from other places, and we just enjoy ourselves. Makes life so much less stressful.
Compare that with a friend of mine who lives on the east coast. She's been very hurt in her past, by more people than I think I will ever know. She's confused, conflicted, and in more than a little pain on a regular basis. She latched onto friendship with me extremely quickly, was very worried about exposing just how much pain she was in to me, and now won't talk to me anymore, because she's so scared of me. I've known her for just under a year, and I think I know more about her mental situation than I do mine. She fits in with the pattern. And I've had other friends who also fit that pattern. Hmm...
Ah, so that was my vent. And I did eventually find my roommate, so I'm safely back in my room, now.
Now, I love Andy and Ingrid, dearly. But, seriously, sometimes I just don't get them.
Like last night. So after church I'd meant to get all sorts of stuff done so that I could watch movies all night (I checked "Antz" and the original "Manchurian Candidate" (reportedly much better than the remake) out from the library on Saturday). But my ADD took over, so I put on Antz, hoping that it would help me concentrate on the essay I had to write for my SLS application. No go. I fell asleep about 20 minutes into the movie, dozed in and out for about half an hour, then forced myself to watch the rest of the movie, turned off the TV, and fell asleep for another hour. I finally woke up, started working on my resume (which I had to update, as well) and was pretty close to actually getting something done when Ingrid called. "I'm bored."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"We should bake."
"*laugh* I'd love to, baby, but I've got work to do, I don't want to be up all night doing it."
We talked about other stuff for a while. Then:
"We should bake."
"I told you honey, I've got to write these things for my OL application."
"Wasn't that due a long time ago?"
"No, it's due tomorrow."
"Oh...are you sure?" I rolled my eyes at this--no, I only have the application with the due date sitting on the desk in front of me, of course I'm not sure.
"I'm sure."
"Hmm, Andy was working on that a long time ago...what questions do you have to answer?" I listed them for her. "Oh, Andy's were worse than that."
"Yeah, but he doesn't have to worry about getting hired--I do."
"He was worried about it...more people are applying."
I laughed. "Right, Andy, the dream child of Augsburg College ResLife, won't get hired as an Orientation Leader...somehow I don't think he has anything to worry about."
"Anyway, we should bake."
After several more bits of conversation that all led back to the same thread, I gave up. I took a gamble that I felt was pretty safe. "Fine, if you can convince Andy that we should bake, I'll figure out how to get it all done and still bake with you guys."
20 minutes later, Andy called me. "So, I guess we're baking..."
We went, we spent half an hour discussing what we were going to bake (Andy wasn't helping, as he kept looking at recipes for lamb chops and pizza, and suggesting that we go out for dinner instead of baking), we decided (finally) that we would make bread pudding. Hallelujah, let's get started. We grocery shopped, got it all mixed together, and put it in the oven...in fact, it looked as though we'd be done by 9ish, and I just might be in bed before midnight. Except that someone had the grand idea that we should sit in complete silence in the living room while the bread pudding was being made. I mean, come on--if you're just going to sleep, don't invite someone who's already taken a two hour nap to come along. But seeing as we were waiting for the pudding to finish baking, it was okay (except for a moment when they both opened their eyes and looked at me at the exact same time--that was scary!).
Bread pudding turned out fabulously, if I do say so myself, and we all partook and were happy. And I figured that we'd leave so that I could finish my essay things. But no, more sitting and sleeping was in order. (Anna, call me and ask me what happened here--you'll appreciate.) After another hour I finally said "Andy, I've got to get back to campus. I've got too much to do." And with much hemming and hawing, we left. It was the most boring baking group project I think we've ever done. At least with the monster cookies we had some fun while we mixed it (even if baking them until two in the morning wasn't so much fun). This wasn't even messy, or all that entertaining to make. And I wound up staying up until 1:30 or some ungodly hour like that working on essays about why I want to be an orientation leader, of all things. Honestly...I think I was about to kill something last night, if I hadn't been so tired. Barely got my teeth brushed last night, and this morning I slept as long as humanly possible and ran down to the music building with 10 minutes to practice my sightsinging (which would've been true sightsinging if not for those 10 minutes) before my voice lesson. I'm still wearing yesterday's eye make-up. No wonder Mom was concerned about the bags under my eyes...
Thanks for hanging in there with me!
After dinner I started a whirlwind search for my roommate. Okay, so I could've used up my free lock-out (after the first time you make someone open your door for you they start charging), but then I'd have to wait around by the security desk until whoever happens to be on call makes their sorry way down and lets me in. Nuh-uh. So I called the room--no answer. Checked the practice rooms--no sign. Checked the library and found my mom, who wanted company while she ate dinner since she was stuck on campus (after she totalled the van, my dad's been giving her rides to and from campus in the 'Stang), and since I couldn't do anything without getting into my room anyway, I accompanied her down to Murphy's. I'd already eaten, so I didn't have anything, but we sat and talked. And I worked a lot of things out with her.
People my age, especially (though it is intergenerational), like to complain about their parents. It's what you do, you know? "Oh, God, my parents. Could anyone be more [obstinate/dorky/idiotic/maddening]? I mean, look at all this [stupid/stubborn/horrible] stuff they're [doing/making me do]..." You can't complain about your classmates, seeing as they all know where you sleep, so parents (and professors) are the best choice. And I can complain about my dad. He and I are so much alike in our personalities, yet so different in how we do things that we clash horribly. I mean, stubborness, hot-headedness, power plays--we do it all. But even when I'm horribly mad at her (usually for taking my dad's side in some argument), I can't complain about my mom. She's just too helpful, smart, and understanding. Somehow she always knows exactly how I'm feeling and can guess why and has a wonderful solution for me. She can bring me down when I'm feeling overly "passionate" (her word for it) about something--usually something I'm angry about--and bring me up when I'm feeling down about stuff.
Anyway, without naming names (though the letters A and I come to mind...) we worked out that there is a reason that I'm the one to go through all this drama: my personality. Not that I'm making mountains out of molehills (though I do that, on occasion) or even making molehills out of anthills, but that I've got the type of personality that is attractive to people who've got a lot of pain in their lives. And things are peachy as long as they stay pretty superficial--hanging out, the occasional serious comversation, but nothing too personal. Because I'm a strong person--it (seemingly) takes a lot to throw me off (though mostly that's just my superb acting skills)--people look at me as someone who they can depend on, someone that they can lean on, someone they can admire, to whom they can aspire to be like. But if things go beyond the superficial mark, if I start trying to be real friends with them, to become more "intimate" (my mother's word) with them, I get really scary. Because it would be so easy for me to hurt them, but seemingly not so easy for them to hurt me. In their eyes I could "take it", no matter what they throw at me, but it scares them witless to think of what I could do to them with what I know about them. And then, what gets even more scary, is when I can't take it--when I become vulnerable and all of a sudden their rock, the strong-woman that they assumed could take anything, is feeling just as hurt as they feel. If someone that strong is feeling that low, how low could I go?
And, looking at the evidence, who's been my friend for the longest time? Liz Reimer, since the 3rd grade. Why? Because she's so much like me--she's a strong woman, too. We get together and just have fun. We can talk about the serious stuff, but we don't need to. We know each other well enough to know exactly how the other thinks, and all it takes is a little bit of gossip to keep ourselves caught up on the news, then we can go and do stuff. Like ice skating, or driving, or shopping...we just have fun. Because we know that we're old friends and that no matter what we'll be there for each other and we don't have to constantly remind each other of that fact. We don't create drama for ourselves, we help each other get through drama that comes from other places, and we just enjoy ourselves. Makes life so much less stressful.
Compare that with a friend of mine who lives on the east coast. She's been very hurt in her past, by more people than I think I will ever know. She's confused, conflicted, and in more than a little pain on a regular basis. She latched onto friendship with me extremely quickly, was very worried about exposing just how much pain she was in to me, and now won't talk to me anymore, because she's so scared of me. I've known her for just under a year, and I think I know more about her mental situation than I do mine. She fits in with the pattern. And I've had other friends who also fit that pattern. Hmm...
Ah, so that was my vent. And I did eventually find my roommate, so I'm safely back in my room, now.
Now, I love Andy and Ingrid, dearly. But, seriously, sometimes I just don't get them.
Like last night. So after church I'd meant to get all sorts of stuff done so that I could watch movies all night (I checked "Antz" and the original "Manchurian Candidate" (reportedly much better than the remake) out from the library on Saturday). But my ADD took over, so I put on Antz, hoping that it would help me concentrate on the essay I had to write for my SLS application. No go. I fell asleep about 20 minutes into the movie, dozed in and out for about half an hour, then forced myself to watch the rest of the movie, turned off the TV, and fell asleep for another hour. I finally woke up, started working on my resume (which I had to update, as well) and was pretty close to actually getting something done when Ingrid called. "I'm bored."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"We should bake."
"*laugh* I'd love to, baby, but I've got work to do, I don't want to be up all night doing it."
We talked about other stuff for a while. Then:
"We should bake."
"I told you honey, I've got to write these things for my OL application."
"Wasn't that due a long time ago?"
"No, it's due tomorrow."
"Oh...are you sure?" I rolled my eyes at this--no, I only have the application with the due date sitting on the desk in front of me, of course I'm not sure.
"I'm sure."
"Hmm, Andy was working on that a long time ago...what questions do you have to answer?" I listed them for her. "Oh, Andy's were worse than that."
"Yeah, but he doesn't have to worry about getting hired--I do."
"He was worried about it...more people are applying."
I laughed. "Right, Andy, the dream child of Augsburg College ResLife, won't get hired as an Orientation Leader...somehow I don't think he has anything to worry about."
"Anyway, we should bake."
After several more bits of conversation that all led back to the same thread, I gave up. I took a gamble that I felt was pretty safe. "Fine, if you can convince Andy that we should bake, I'll figure out how to get it all done and still bake with you guys."
20 minutes later, Andy called me. "So, I guess we're baking..."
We went, we spent half an hour discussing what we were going to bake (Andy wasn't helping, as he kept looking at recipes for lamb chops and pizza, and suggesting that we go out for dinner instead of baking), we decided (finally) that we would make bread pudding. Hallelujah, let's get started. We grocery shopped, got it all mixed together, and put it in the oven...in fact, it looked as though we'd be done by 9ish, and I just might be in bed before midnight. Except that someone had the grand idea that we should sit in complete silence in the living room while the bread pudding was being made. I mean, come on--if you're just going to sleep, don't invite someone who's already taken a two hour nap to come along. But seeing as we were waiting for the pudding to finish baking, it was okay (except for a moment when they both opened their eyes and looked at me at the exact same time--that was scary!).
Bread pudding turned out fabulously, if I do say so myself, and we all partook and were happy. And I figured that we'd leave so that I could finish my essay things. But no, more sitting and sleeping was in order. (Anna, call me and ask me what happened here--you'll appreciate.) After another hour I finally said "Andy, I've got to get back to campus. I've got too much to do." And with much hemming and hawing, we left. It was the most boring baking group project I think we've ever done. At least with the monster cookies we had some fun while we mixed it (even if baking them until two in the morning wasn't so much fun). This wasn't even messy, or all that entertaining to make. And I wound up staying up until 1:30 or some ungodly hour like that working on essays about why I want to be an orientation leader, of all things. Honestly...I think I was about to kill something last night, if I hadn't been so tired. Barely got my teeth brushed last night, and this morning I slept as long as humanly possible and ran down to the music building with 10 minutes to practice my sightsinging (which would've been true sightsinging if not for those 10 minutes) before my voice lesson. I'm still wearing yesterday's eye make-up. No wonder Mom was concerned about the bags under my eyes...
Thanks for hanging in there with me!