The E-Art of Small Talk

You see, I've always been an advocater of the internet. I find it rather incredible that when my insomnia kicks in and I look over at the clock and see that it's 3:44a.m. .. I don't have to find another insomniac to talk to. In fact, all I have to do is log onto an internet forum, or in this case, the newest networking website. I can find people all over - normal people, sane people, people who work their 9-5s and sleep their 11-7s - and they're all awake and want to talk. Sure, they're on the other side of the world, but that makes it even more interesting. When my real life friends start hearing the words "bloody" "mate" and "ace," when we're together and I start asking for a "coldie," they all just kind of assume that I'm going crazy. I tell them no, not crazy - it's Australian!

Anyway, the other night, er, morning, I couldn't sleep. I'm sort of talking to my friend Becky, but since she's only on the other coast, she's planning on going to bed soon. So I'm lurking around, trying to find someone to talk to.. and as if God wants to keep me occupied, I have a new friend request that shows up once Becky signs off. "Elizabeth [last name here]" wants to be your friend." I think, sure Elizabeth, I'd love to be your friend. So I hit "accept" and check her profile. Oddly enough, she's from my area. The next thing I know, I have a new message. It's from her.
"hey i lik your profiel picture. you're pretty cute . are you single??"

This probably should have been a sign for me, looking back on it now. You see, my profile.. well, it asks what you're looking for through this site. The default, in order, says "A Relationship, Friendship, People to Date." Considering I'm not in a relationship, I let that stay. I fall into the trap, telling her that she's pretty too and that yes, I am single. We make the same small talk normal people do when meeting in person and we seem to be hitting it off. I figure, hey, she lives in the next town over.. maybe we can be friends IRL. Er, in real life. Sorry. So I ask her to meet me at Starbucks tomorrow around 4:30-5. This is a few days later, by the way. She loves the idea. We go.

I show up around 4:45 and walk over to order a coffee. I'm standing in line, and all of a sudden someone's grabbing me. I turn around and this chick kisses me. WHOA WHOA WHOA. Who are you and what are you doing!? I ask. The dude working at Starbucks seems pretty intrigued, but he goes ahead and starts making my coffee anyway.

"It's Elizabeth!"
"Well what are you doing?"
"Kissing you? No one I ever date makes the first move."

And then I realize where I had gone wrong. Yes, I am single. But more-so yes, I'm straight. I'm looking for friendship, not a relationship, not a person to date. Just someone to talk to when everyone else is asleep. Which in hindsight, I guess that sounds pretty selfish. A friend when no other friends are around. But I guess that's always been the case, because when am I gonna see these people on the other side of the world? Back to my story. I mess up. Before telling her anything about me not wanting to date her, I tell her sorry, I didn't recognize you. You don't really look like your profile picture. She sort of shies her head away and mumbles out an "oh. That's not the first time I've heard that.." and she sits down. I follow her with my eyes, and the table she's at has an empty plate on it and two cups; one empty, the other on its way there. I get a little creeped out and wonder how long she's been here. The guy hands me my coffee, whispers "good luck" and I sit down.

"So.. hi Elizabeth."
"Hi."
"How long have you been here?"
"About 48 minutes. But who's counting right? Ha ha."
"Oh.. I'm sorry you've been here so long."

And then there's that awkward pause, which on the internet, you can just assume that they're busy and didn't get the message right away. I don't remember the last time I've met someone in person. But these are the 2000s. It's the twenty-first century. Why do I have to meet anyone in person? Either way, I try to break the silence by telling her that I like her shoes. And you know what she says to me? "They're not shoes. They're boots." What do you say to that? You can only imagine how the rest of the evening went. Foolishly, when I get back home, I message her, telling her that it was "pleasant" to meet her and sorry if she misunderstood everything and thought this was a date and maybe we should just stick to being e-friends. Well, not only did she not respond, but she deleted me from her friends list. So, I get it. I'm still an advocater of the internet, but now I know.. real life's not for everyone.

Add Me to Your Top Friends!

The following is a transcript of a conversation I overheard, explaining quite nicely why I hate everyone.

"Dude, so are we going to Kat's tonight?"
"Why would we be going to Kat's? I don't even know her."
"Because guy, she's having a sick party! With like, two or three 30s of PBR. The Captain's gonna be there. Oh and good ole Maryjane might be stopping by!"
"What? Who cares?"
"C'mon dude! It's a party!"
"Dude! First of all, we don't know them. Second of all, I don't party. Third of all, stealing beers from your dad's fridge does not make you a badass, or a drinker. And you don't even smoke."
"So what, guy? I've been friends with Kat on Facebook since I got the thing, and Kelly and Ari just added me the other day. They're all BFF and they'd all let me come."
"Like I said, you don't even drink or smoke. And you're not friends."
"But if we go, I bet I'd be added to their top friends, if you know what I mean."
"No, I don't know what you mean. I have no idea what you mean. And if that's supposed to be some kinda pun, or innuendo, about how you're going to 'get with them' ... I don't even want to talk to you anymore."
"Nah c'mon man. What do you think girls do at parties?"
"Well, they don't hook up with people like you. They don't let people like you come. Who do you think you are, that guy in Superbad?"
"You know what? I don't care what you say. I'm leaving Kat a comment, and ten bucks says she'll let me come."
"Deal."
"What? No, I don't mean that. No money. I mean, I bet she'll let me come. And if, no, WHEN, when I go.. you're not coming with me. And I'm gonna get so trashed man. Just you wait. Come tomorrow, I'll be number one on Kat's top friends. Aw yeah."

And While We're on the Subject, What Does Love Have to do with It?

Everything.

Is love enough?

I know that people change. I know that times change. I know that things change. I am not ignorant. I know people sometimes try to justify "changes for the worst" as growing up. I know that we all have to grow up. I know, we're not on the same level. Having similar long terms means nothing; long term is unachievable without a combination of short term. I cannot do this short term. In the long run, all these short terms are the long term. If none of the short terms are working, how does the long term work? Exactly.

The truth is, growing apart is hard. You see it happening and you try to fix it, when in reality, both parties know nothing can be fixed. I think the struggle at the end is what makes it toughest. I've had friendships end out of the blue. One day we're talking, the next we're not, and it's usually okay. You notice it, maybe become concerned, but mostly, in these situtations, it's okay. You might talk occasionally, but you both realize one (or both) of you has changed too much. You don't need it anymore. Neither of you can do anything for the other. It's the ones with the struggles that are so hard to lose. As the relationship is kindling, you both try to act like everything is okay. You call, you IM, you small talk. And both of you do this. You start to realize, this is all it is. Simple chat. Small talk. There's no substance anymore. You both still like each other, so you both try to make it work. But, it doesn't work. Nothing's changed between you two, but things aren't how they were. You've grown apart. You try to hold on, you have to let go. It's hard.

In relationships, I never liked the idea of taking a break. I've always seen it as a copout way of cheating on someone. Taking a break implies you plan to get back together. Yet, you're allowed to act single. In a way, you both know you're still together, or going to be soon, but everything that wasn't okay is now okay. A few months ago, one of my friends and I were having a chat about relationships and she told me that "if one of you ever brings up the idea of a break, do it. I think if so-and-so and I did that, we'd still be together." I couldn't understand why you need a break and why you need to stop "being official" just to spend some time apart. For one reason or another, the topic has been crossing my mind again a lot recently. Now when I think about it, I see it as the growing apart. The changes. One of the new Saves the Day songs, quite possibly my favorite on the CD, has a refrain of "bye bye baby our love can't save you, so bye bye baby" and since I heard it, I thought about it a lot. Sometimes, love isn't enough.

Back to the point, breaks. There's growing apart, there's changes, there's tension, but most importantly, there's love. And because of that love, you don't want to end things. Despite all the petty arguments and unnecessary drama, you still need them to be around. Despite how hurt you get, you think loving them justifies everything. Whether I agree or not, I won't say, but I will say that I understand this. Rather than an excusable cheating, a break is simply a test. Is the love enough? If it is, you return. By this point, both of you realize that something isn't working. In an ideal situation, the second party will understand that something is wrong and you had to figure out if it was worth trying to fix. Is love worth it. In many situations, a break will just cause anger. "If you know you love me, why would you have to do that?" etc. etc. I think, because I've seen situations similar to the latter so often, that's why I never liked breaks. They never fix anything. In actuality, someone just doesn't understand. Understanding is key.

And this can be applicable to cheating, too. Which is probably why I saw the two as so interchangeable. If you cheat on someone, and you know you messed up, it's because something was wrong. Maybe this wasn't your mind set going into it, but you needed the test. Is our love enough? Would I rather be seeing other people or should I try to get things fixed? And by cheating, you can find out what you want. If you get upset about it simply because you know you're not single, that's not good. But if you get upset because you can't stand hurting the other person and you know you still want them to be around, love wins. Is cheating justifiable? Maybe. Is "once a cheater always a cheater" true? Personally, I think no. Sometimes people need the mistake to know what they want. However, if you know this in advance, cheating isn't okay. People don't realize that they're testing their love. And of course, I'm not talking about all situations. Either way, if you know the problem, if you know you need the test, take the break. But above all, talk about it. A relationship cannot work without communication and trust. And if you avoid communication to break trust, it makes everything much more improbable of being fixable.

So the question remains. Is love enough of a reason to be together? What about a once loved? If things get to a point where you're falling out of love, or have fallen out of love, is it worth trying to get it back? Is it possible to get it back? Personally, I've always thought you can't hate someone unless you've loved them. Is staying together solely for love worth the risk of hatred (if nothing gets fixed)? I have so many questions.

Long Days and Longer Nights

"i would break down at your feet and beg forgiveness, plead with you.."

Two hundred twenty six miles one hundred seventy two minutes and a half a tank later, I'm still on 95, at least a half hour from home. It's been a long day. The radio isn't helping. I figured at this hour, there's gotta be some college station getting the shaft. Someone who will be able to give me what I want. Clear up my mind. Distract me a little bit. I need Elliott Smith, but I'm getting Robert. I need depressing, I'm getting depressed. Friday I was in love, and now it's not reciprocated. It's the thing you see on TV. The thing that I saw on TV, with you, and laughed at any guy who acts like that, but look who's laughing now, right?

It's the conversation that bothers me the most, I think. Every single word - every syllable - I have it all down. It's engraved in my mind and it's all I can hear. You. We can't act like this anymore. Me. I know. And then I paused. I was hoping you'd agree. You said nothing. Me. I know baby. And then I paused again, but a shorter pause. Me. It's gonna be okay. You. What is? Me. We are. We're gonna be okay. You. But we aren't. We can't be. How can we be okay if we act like this? I can't do this if this is okay. Things aren't okay. We're not okay. This isn't okay. And then I didn't say anything because it hit me the same time it hit you. I looked at you and saw that you understood, and you turned your head away in shame. Your word choice was perfect - we can't act like this. We can't act. Listen to us; we're so scripted and typical. Everything neither of us ever wanted to be. We're not made for acting, and I have no idea what we're doing wrong. Or what I did wrong. Or why me not knowing what was wrong was reason enough for you to get up and tell me to go. Or why you started crying when you told me we couldn't work. Or why you kissed me that last time as your tears rolled down my face. Or why you laughed, or something like it, and said "see, boys don't cry" and you walked away. Or why this song is still on the radio or why your tears are still rolling down my cheek or why I can't handle this. Everything reminds me of her, and that's what I need to hear.

There's nobody around. I notice the needle of the speedometer has passed ninety, and even that is too much. Every time we were in the car, you'd be the one noticing my speed. You were convinced it was dangerous, but I'm convinced that if the guy in front of me slams on his breaks while I'm changing the radio station, I'm gonna get banged up bad if I'm going 65 or 105 and it would take more than a speed limit to save me. It's been a long car ride. I never thought I'd miss you. I never thought I'd have to miss you. But even now, I know it's going to be worse. I know, you aren't going to be the only person I ever care about. You won't be the only person I ever love. It's hard being realistic, and it's hard being optimistic, and I know that I'm eventually going to move on. Right now, I can still remember everything about you. Everything we've ever experienced that wasn't worth talking about, it means something now. But baby, you weren't the first one to cause me to remember things. Yeah, I loved you. Yeah, I still do love you. But I've had less than loves associated with certain songs, or smells, or tastes - and I can hear those things. I smell those things. I taste those things. And I feel nothing more than the sense. That's when it's going to be worse. I don't want to forget you. I don't want the yellow apples to simply be the better ones. I don't want to break one of the prongs off a plastic fork and have it simply be a broken fork. I don't want to hear another Furby and simply think it's annoying. Because once I forget these things, once I can hear, feel, see, taste, smell these things, what will be left of you?

Maybe I took you for granted. I never meant to, but, when we constantly reassure each other that things will work no matter what - that even the biggest mistakes can be forgiven - what was I supposed to do? We were telling each other that no matter how many rights we wrong, it's okay. I won't leave if you won't leave. Now there's no one in the passenger seat. It's never the same as the beginning. We don't have to try to win each other's affection, especially if we know (we're told) it's always going to be there. It's been a long couple of days. I can't stop missing you. I don't want to forget you. If someone asks me about you, I don't want to tell him you're this nice, pretty blonde with hazel eyes that I spent many, many months loving. I don't want you to be a description. I don't want you to sound typical. We're not going to be friends, and I can accept that. But I can't accept being nothings. And I know it has to be one or the other. What am I supposed to do?

I suppose I can start by taking the next highway I can find, and tune into the next station I can get, and see where that leads me.. it's going to be a long night.

Delivering a Letter without a Stamp or Return Address

To: MY SON



Dear Connor,
They say leaving is the hardest part, but have they ever tried coming back? Leaving was easy..

You know me, but you don't know who I am. Tomorrow, I start work in Coventry. I've been wanting to tell you everything, the past two years I've been here. I wanted to tell you. I wanted to tell your mother. Tell her I'm sorry. You won't understand any of this now, and maybe you won't keep it until you're older, but I have to do something. I have to say something before you forget who I am.

Connor, I met your mom through your Aunt Linda. She dated my roommate first year of college in PC. She told me I should meet your mom. This was before you were born. I shouldn't have said yes, Connor. I shouldn't have started dating her. I shouldn't have gotten myself into a relationship. That was my first mistake. A couple years later, she told me she was pregnant. We were going to have a son, and I asked if it was mine. She started to cry, ran out of the room, and I didn't get up to try to calm her. I didn't do anything. I didn't feel anything. I was making so many mistakes. The next thing I knew, I dropped out and got a job here in Lincoln. Before your mom moved here, I transferred to Bristol and was there for a few years.

I read all the papers Connor. I checked all the births, the deaths, everything. I wanted to know everything about people. I had to connect in some way. I had nothing of my own. Then, on February 21, I found a name I recognized. A Miss Angela Curry, giving birth to a Connor Nicholas on February 19 2001, coming in at 6 lbs 8 oz and 19 inches. This was in the Lincoln paper. Your mom got a place with your Aunt, her sister, and they were going to raise you. I see your Aunt sometimes, when I'm walking away, but I don't think she sees me. She tries, though. To find someone - something - never thinking it could be me. She's a good Aunt, Connor. A better father than I ever was. About twenty-six months ago, I was asked to come work in Lincoln again. I didn't have a choice. I was afraid I'd have to face you. Face your family. The first three months, I didn't. Then that guy quit, and I had a new route. Your route. I would be seeing you daily for the next two years and you wouldn't know. I would. From the first day, I saw my eyes in you. My jaw line. Your mother's lips. Her ears. Her hair color. My hair texture.

I often wondered if your mom wonders about me, or thinks about me at all, and when I saw you.. I got an awful feeling in the pit of my stomach. How could she not think of me seeing you? You are a miniature me. The perfect hybrid of your mother and I. My first week, I felt sick. I didn't want to see you. I didn't want to see her. I didn't want to see us.

I don't know if your mom ever finished school, but I didn't. Once I left, Connor, I lost everything. I suppose you couldn't say I lost it - it was mostly my own doing. I wanted to leave. I wanted to escape. A new state. A new coast. A new country. Something. But I couldn't bring myself to leave my son. My unborn son that would never know me. So I stuck around, with nothing, and I still can't figure out why. The truth is, you know the mailman, but you don't know your father. You talk to the mailman daily, but you've never talked to your father. Did you ever know that the mailman is supposed to be your father?

It's been about eight years since I've started making mistakes. Since I met your mother. And here I am, leaving again. Giving you this letter. Still making mistakes. I never meant to hurt your mom, Connor. I never meant for you to grow up without me. Just.. a son at age 20 wasn't part of my plan. I was going to school to be a civil engineer. I was a smart kid, but I didn't make smart decisions. I wanted to know you Connor. I wanted a lot of things and now I have none. If leaving is loving, I love you just as much as I loved your mother. I see so much of me in you. I'm sure you don't want to hear anything from your dad, but will you listen to your mailman? Be good to her, Connor. Stay in school, have a family of your own. Don't make the same mistakes that I did. I'm sorry to have been back in your life only to leave again. I used to be a good person, Connor. I really was. All I know how to do now is leave. So I mean this with all the love you're willing to accept; I hope I never get to see you or hurt you again. Goodbye Connor, and for your sake, I hope your new mailman is as friendly and willing to hear about your day as I was.

-Thomas Long; the mailman

Unexpected or Unwanted? Changes

I haven't seen my father in two and a half weeks, which is weird to me. Despite how much or how little I had seen him when he was around, there's still a void that won't be filled for another five and a half months, when he comes back. And I miss him and six months is far too long to wait to see someone you love.

Tonight I came home earlier than I intended to. I said okay, time to go, but instead of saying that I was kidding around, I got up and left. I had a lot on my mind, but when isn't that the case? So I get on 495 and turn on the heat because apparently a mid-August night requires the heat. And it was an annoying ride home because I had to turn it on and off numerous times because on was too hot and off was too cold. "Transatlanticism" was in the CD player, already starting midway through since it's been in there for days. The other day, however, track #10 got quite scratchy and loud and it sounded like my speakers were going to explode so I turned it off. Today, this drive, this CD was perfect for the weather. And then I got to track 10 again. We Looked Like Giants. I was casually listening at first, but as the song went on I felt more involved, I listened more closely. Then that second verse..

God damn the black night, with all its foul temptations
I've become what I always hated, when I was with you then

..that. Everything on my mind, it all just exploded. Right there. My eyes began to swell and I could feel tears, but they wouldn't fall. "I've become what I always hated when I was with you" and it's truth, or ex-truth, was all I could feel. A sort of guilt trying to destroy me, trying to convince me I was the same person I was the first time I heard this song.

In an attempt to distract myself, I looked up into the sky and saw the moon and tried to figure out where it was in relation to the earth and the sun. A half moon.. halfway between new and full. It had to be perpendicular to the sun and parallel with the earth. Or rather, lined up with the earth. Now, I began to wonder, is it approaching fullness or newness? And each time I looked it seemed a little blacker than glowing, so I went ahead and assumed it was turning into a new moon. However, I was incorrect. The right half was glowing, so it was growing full. Before long, the moon was hidden behind the clouds, or the trees, or the traffic, so I stopped thinking about it. By now, "Title and Registration" is playing and I began to think that some gloves may be enough for me to not need the heat on, but before I could continue that thought, Ben Gibbard reminds me that "I am waiting for something to go wrong" and all the thoughts come back at me, because it has reached the point. Something has gone wrong. And the whole time I'm narrating everything that's going on in my head - the outside, the inside, everything - and it makes the music seem quieter than it is.

Speaking of my head, there's something wrong with me. I'm fucked up. The other night - last night? - everything (yeah, it was last night) just started spinning. I got my nightly headache early, got dizzy, and continued reading hoping it would go away. It didn't. Everything was moving around. I have problems that I should probably see a doctor for, but won't.

Back to the car, back to that drive home, whilst narrating, I've decided I'll use this blog for blogging, simply, and not just writing stories and what-not. When I was nearly home, a car coming off the Bellingham exit cut me off and moved into the left lane because the middle lane was moving at a too-slow-75. I moved over into the right lane, having to get off in a minute anyway, and to my surprise the man who just cut me off slid in between two cars in the middle lane and cut me off - again! - got off at my exit, and then headed back towards Bellingham. I don't understand people, and that statement has nothing to do with the previous few sentences. School starts in just over a week and for once, I'm anxious to go back and would rather be there then have to continue this summer. And I'm not trying to say I've hated this summer, but it's completely opposite of what I'd expected - not even what I wanted - and overall, to be completely honest, I'm quite dissatisfied.