Nostalgia Burns
Meeting up with an old friend, a friend from the highschool before the highschool, generally brings forth a two hour conversation in which we assassinate the character of almost every person we used to circulate amongst at school, interspaced with a fair measure of self assessment.
This self assessment has been the same for both of us, every time we have spoken, for the last two years - we are bored. During this time I have left one relationship, left one job, started another; my life doesn't measure up to the same stable boyfriend and same job she has held for the past two years (and well before then) yet I'm as stale as she is.
While we talk, my mind flickers back through the potholes of my past, and most vividly, the sister she has, whom I loved like any boy would love the last hand that grabbed him before he tumbled into the abyss. I think of my friend as a 15 year old and myself as a 16 year old. I remember a smile, orange triangles, and a sunny August day in a fuelled country town.
I consider the way in which I viewed myself as a potential adult when I was in my teens, what I expected I would be doing, where I expected I would be. There were no plans then, nothing; I have no memory of what I thought I would be doing. There are no plans now. My life is now a 12 month deadline, beyond which I have no idea where I will be and what I will be doing. A deadline flavoured with the sinking feeling that I may still be at university in some capacity beyond the end of next year.
Where we talked two years ago almost exclusively about the characters of our past, and in some cases, her present - now we deal more often in taking stock of our lives now, and where we are going. My friends have travelled, some have moved out. I'm treading water in this set of middle grounds - I can travel, but I don't fancy paying for it. I can move out, but I don't like paying rent. I can leave university, but I don't want to work fulltime. I want a pile of debt, but can't have it while I don't work fulltime.
We collect our thoughts across a half hour of sighs and raised eyebrows about the self imposed inescapability of our situations. I realise that despite my protests, I'm addicted to being boring, and nothing will change. It is an addiction with the most boring of side effects.
Never really tied down, but never really free.
This self assessment has been the same for both of us, every time we have spoken, for the last two years - we are bored. During this time I have left one relationship, left one job, started another; my life doesn't measure up to the same stable boyfriend and same job she has held for the past two years (and well before then) yet I'm as stale as she is.
While we talk, my mind flickers back through the potholes of my past, and most vividly, the sister she has, whom I loved like any boy would love the last hand that grabbed him before he tumbled into the abyss. I think of my friend as a 15 year old and myself as a 16 year old. I remember a smile, orange triangles, and a sunny August day in a fuelled country town.
I consider the way in which I viewed myself as a potential adult when I was in my teens, what I expected I would be doing, where I expected I would be. There were no plans then, nothing; I have no memory of what I thought I would be doing. There are no plans now. My life is now a 12 month deadline, beyond which I have no idea where I will be and what I will be doing. A deadline flavoured with the sinking feeling that I may still be at university in some capacity beyond the end of next year.
Where we talked two years ago almost exclusively about the characters of our past, and in some cases, her present - now we deal more often in taking stock of our lives now, and where we are going. My friends have travelled, some have moved out. I'm treading water in this set of middle grounds - I can travel, but I don't fancy paying for it. I can move out, but I don't like paying rent. I can leave university, but I don't want to work fulltime. I want a pile of debt, but can't have it while I don't work fulltime.
We collect our thoughts across a half hour of sighs and raised eyebrows about the self imposed inescapability of our situations. I realise that despite my protests, I'm addicted to being boring, and nothing will change. It is an addiction with the most boring of side effects.
Never really tied down, but never really free.
posted by The Student at 12:41 AM
4 Comments:
a two hour conversation in which we assassinate the character of almost every person we used to circulate amongst at school, interspaced with a fair measure of self assessment.
HAHAHAHA. Boy do I know how THAT conversation sounds.
And yeah - it's terrible to already feel like a nostalgic old woman looking back with rose-coloured glasses to my teenage years. In two years it will be my 10 year school reunion. TEN. FUCKING. YEARS *panics massively*
I should start dieting today.
Another year over. And what have we done. Etc.
*broods*
I think half the reason my school-founded friendships are still intact is that bitchin about others is universal.
That, and sighing constituting the gap in the bitching.
Bitching is healthy. Everyone does it. If everyone does it, then the rules of society adapt to make it accepted behaviour.
Ever seen a blog-meet where one person failed to show up?
Fuuuuck...vicious!
You've done plenty Jelly.
Hmmm.... I'm still not sure I like this post.
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