Lonely?
I can fail at brevity too.
But this post brought back much, and I will be narcissistic: isn’t that rather the point of the blog? I have a confessional blog. Not solely, but in part. But let me avoid getting into the post (which I have sitting in the drafts) about the nature of my blog, and other metaissues, and instead muse about myself. Again.
I wanted to write a brief post about the emptiness that seems to have become the essential fact of my life, but after drafting it for a couple of hours I realized it was not going to be brief at all. And as I don’t want this to be a confessional, my life is miserable, kind of place - I deleted it.
Not that I have anything against posts and blogs like that, but all too often I’ve found that when I write about this sort of thing I only make myself feel worse - which is exactly how I feel now. This is why I’ve never been able to keep a journal, and why I’ve had misgivings about blogging: this kind of isolated writing is such a strong reminder of how completely, utterly alone I feel (and, to tell the truth, am).
I knew graduate school would have its isolating aspects, but I never imagined it would be like this. I mean, I didn’t expect to make tons of friends (I’m more comfortable with having a few close friends, anyway), or to find myself suddenly transformed into some wild party-er, or to go on some dating spree, or anything like that. But I also didn’t expect to feel no real connection with anyone I’ve met here, or with anyone I could see regularly.
And this was, in short, my problem in graduate school. Oh, maybe it would have changed, new people came in year after year, and so on — but by then I was too sad, too tired to keep making the efforts. (That and not exactly suicidal, but not exactly not.) The internet helped, but also not, because as much as this is communication, it lacks immediacy — good and bad — and it lacks touch. And that — there is nothing lonelier than no physical contact at all, ever.
It’s just that most of my friends are married or engaged or at least in serious relationships, and my single friends seem to be into the whole go-out-and-get-drunk type of social life, which is not something that interests me at all. I’ve been to my department’s happy hour a few times, but it’s held at a bar where it’s so loud it’s almost impossible to have a real conversation. So most of the times I go out I’m left wondering how it is that I’ve managed to turn out so differently than everyone else.
This is a more eloquent way of what I had intended to say in my not cool post. How come I don’t like bars when everyone else does? How come I don’t like alcohol much? Why don’t I have any interest in drugs? Am I crazy, or is everyone else?
And it’s hard to meet people. Even back here, back home — I have friends who have friends I don’t like, friends who just moved back and know 3 people in the city, friends who for whatever reason, don’t have big groups of friends to introduce me to. Why should they, after all: I don’t.
So I don’t know anyone new, any friends I didn’t have 2 years ago, before I moved away. And I am in flux, and so my friendships here, some of them, are also in flux, and not always in good ways.
I am confused. Nothing much changes.
January 29th, 2005 at 2:02 am
When I was young(er), I liked to go to clubs to dance. I liked being in an atmsophere that was so unrestrictive. If you’re young and can’t enjoy these things, go ahead and figure out what floats your boat and move on but don’t beat yourself up over it if you dont’ appreciate the hard party.
January 29th, 2005 at 11:42 am
Hey … once I turned 21 my interest in the whole clubbing thing was gone. I like to go for a few calm drinks (which may or may not involve alcohol) to hear some live music (nothing too crazy) but that’s it. I have friends who do the crazy clubbing thing and just invite them to other activities. Friends. Tough topic. I don’t make them so easily, at least not good ones. That can be quite a source of frustration. It’s OK to not be like others, to be unique.
Oh, and I hear you on the physical touch thing. Drives me crazy. I’m someone who really needs it.
January 29th, 2005 at 2:09 pm
I’ve so been there. I wasn’t without friends in graduate school, but…the “no physical contact at all” thing? Yes. And the “everyone I know is in a couple” thing? Also yes. And you’re absolutely right about the blogosphere helping with some forms of isolation but not others.
I also don’t think you’re uncool if you’d rather not have your social life hinge on drinking and hanging out in bars. Plenty of cool people aren’t into that.
January 30th, 2005 at 9:47 pm
I’m clearly still not getting my point across. Darn. It’s not that I hate not enjoying partying — I mean, I don’t like it, I don’t wish I liked it, it just holds no appeal at best. It’s that I wonder where exactly I differ from most everyone else, or how, or why — something I can’t quite express properly.
January 31st, 2005 at 2:13 pm
Well, I’ve often suspected that far fewer people genuinely _enjoy_ doing things like getting drunk in loud bars; it’s more that they can’t think of any other way to have fun, or they’re paralyzed by not being “cool.”
One thing that’s pretty clear about you from your posts, wolfangel, is that while you care about what other people think of you, you also have a good sense of what you do and don’t want/like and a willingness to reject the given path if it doesn’t suit. So it’s not surprising you’re mystified by the bar flies. Most people aren’t good at (or comfortable with) identifying their likes and dislikes on their own — they prefer the pre-packaged versions society offers us — and even if they are, it’s often easier to just go along.
However, every cool trend began with a person who broke from the herd, so don’t beat yourself up for not being a herd animal.
January 31st, 2005 at 8:24 pm
I probably could have written much of this. (How many guesses do you need to figure out why I dated a few creepy guys back in the day?)
I am incapable of going to bars. Well, for one, I don’t know anyone who goes to bars. (That might be because, oh, the only person I know in this city is a “friend of Bill.”) And I can not go to bars alone for two reasons: I don’t know how bars work (the logistics of the whole thing — I can’t eat at complicated cafeterias for much the same reason) and going to a allegedly-social environment and then totally FAILING at being social is much worse than staying home.
November 19th, 2006 at 9:55 pm
Wow. This thread is so old that this will probably go unread - but I’ve been struggling with exactly the same issues myself lately. Why is it that “normal” people seem to love to go out to bars and party? And if not everyone is into that, where do THOSE people hang out? They’re much harder to find, it would seem. I’m one of them.