dropped call

23 Oct 2006 at 11:47 pm

Lately, I’ve been thinking about connections (probably because I’m lacking them). I find myself generally active and happy here in Vermont, but on my days off, I get lonely. The only friends I have here are my classmates, and while they’re great, I’m not really close with any of them. Jim comes closest, but he’s still not quite there.

And really, the only people I’m close with are either those I’ve known for years or those with whom I had amazing chemistry from the start. It makes me think how rare and precious those connections are.

The people you grow close to are people you’re similar to or, at least, those with whom you can relate easily. It’s an obvious notion, that our close friends represent a world mostly similar to our own, and if you manage your time such that you’re surrounded by similar people most of the time, it’s easy enough to think that everyone else is similar to you. How ridiculous.

I forget how different everyone is. It’s one of the things that makes us all amazing and unique, but the way I’m thinking about it now, it’s one of the things that separates us. I meet people I don’t understand and can’t relate to, and I’m sure the feeling is likewise; we hold different values and beliefs. In a situation like that, we won’t ever be close. We might not even become friends. It’s almost like we live in parallel dimensions.

I just find it fascinating.

When I catch up with friends, even ones I haven’t talked to in forever, we’re at relatively similar points in our lives. We can make recommendations on books, movies, and music, and they’re of similar interest. We can agree to meet at a restaurant that we’d both enjoy. All of this happens without much effort, for we’re alike.

Lately, I’ve become fascinated with MySpace. I had avoided that place like the plague for years. It’s a designer’s—and sometimes a web patron’s—worst nightmare. I usually can’t visit more than two or three profiles without being assaulted by blaring, obnoxious music and enough animations to bring my dual-core processor to a halt. Yet despite the atrocities, it is an incredibly successful and meaningful community to thousands and thousands of people. They use it to connect and keep in touch; they use it to rediscover one another. This is where it’s become useful to me.

I’ve been looking up people from my high school, and it’s a surreal endeavor to say the least. I haven’t talked to any of these people in about seven years, and I’m amazed at how different they appear now compared to then. Some have spread around the country; others stayed close to home. Some straightened up, and some loosened up. It’s absolutely wild.

I imagine that over time, the disparity between us will continue to grow. It’s inevitable: we’re going to keep becoming whomever it is we’ll be, and that’s going to cause some of us to grow closer and others to grow starkly divergent.

As brilliant as connections are, it’s helpful to remember their foil, the disconnections. They’re equally fascinating in their own dark way.