Despite the melancholy tenor of my last post, it's great to be back in Chicago, and back in That's Weird, Grandma! starting tomorrow.
If you come, I'll be your "mouse-like little Ghost Friend."
Also, distance can be fun . . .
Like when your friends come back in town and you get to celebrate them not expiring in a canyon.
Or when your super-talented classmate reads your entire messy manuscript and gives you some much-needed reassurance that you're not a complete fool, and that you can, and should, work it out.
Or when you play a real-time game of Scrabulous on Facebook with a friend in another state because you don't really feel like going out. I spent a good two or three hours chatting and scrabbling last night with a long-time-no-seen friend from college. I laughed to the point of spitting on myself. The sweet (and perhaps shameful) part is, we never had a conversation that lasted that long in person. I was surrounded by so many good people in school (and so unsettled in myself) that I didn't get to know half of them as well as I wish I had. But it's never too late.
Moving to and from LA, doing a low-residency grad program, and shuffling up my relationships, have all led to the most wired year of my life . . . a year in which, as I've mentioned before, I've made more new friends in a short time than I thought to be possible post-college -- many of whom I can only keep up with online. Internet communication has its limits, but they're neither as many nor as daunting as I used to think.
Thank you, friends!
Thank you for making me laugh.
Thank you for making me brave.
Thank you for not dying.
Currently reading: The Minister's Daughter by Julie Hearn
2 comments:
And thank YOU for using the phrase "melancholy tenor."
and thanks for not expiring in a canyon yourself! glad to see all's well!
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