Who you think I am is who I am but not who I was
or
I don’t know is on third
Over the past year and a half, I have been making an effort to reconnect with old friends from home. Sure, it’s only a phone call, but it’s good to stay in touch. I’ve found that, in general, most of my friends have never been good at keeping up and that it (usually) has fallen on me to make the calls. Once we’re on the phone it’s like old times, but it’s usually on me to initiate it. Recently, a few of them have reached out to me first. That, however, is not the reason for this post.
I miss my old friends. I have realized that the reason I miss them so much has as much to do with the fact that those friendships are from a simpler time as it does missing their companionship. Distance in friendships has never been much of an issue with me. If we’re good friends, it doesn’t matter if we’re 2 or 2,000 miles away. That’s not the issue.
The truth is, I really enjoy talking with people who knew me “before.” Before this career, before car payments, responsibilities, titles, stress, uncertainty, 401(k)s, interest rates, and “the future.” Before I became what I am. I say “what” instead of “who” because I am, essentially, the same person. But now I’m surrounded by the trappings of adulthood: job titles, pressures, deadlines, worries: can I afford to buy a house? Will I ever get married? Is that a lump? These are the people who knew me when the greatest worry in my life was whether I would be able to get up for that 9:30 class when it was all the way across campus and it was only 5 degrees outside. The people who knew me when the most important decision I had to make was whether to blow $15 eating out or just go to the Buffett (sic); when my biggest responsibility was making sure my stupid drunken friends had a ride home (or didn’t get impaled by flying Kukri sharpening knives).
This is not to say that my new friends are not important. It is not to say that people I meet now will never know me. But they will know me as something different than those who knew me “before.” I no longer feel like the happy-go-lucky Midwestern boy I was back then and there. Everyone has to grow up eventually. Despite my best efforts, it would appear that I have done so. Introspection and self-examination are seldom easy, but they are important practices. It would truly be a sad thing to forget one’s origins.
So my old friends keep me grounded. They keep me from becoming too full of myself. They remember (and constantly bring up) all of the stupid little things I’ve done. They remind me that I was once an insecure, nerdy college kid who just wanted to hang out with my friends; who just wanted to be accepted; who wanted that girl to like him. They remind me that, no matter what happens, I am still that Midwestern boy; I am still insecure at times; I am still nerdy; and that I am not necessarily the big shot that I sometimes like to fancy myself.
And for that, I thank them.
I don’t know is on third
Over the past year and a half, I have been making an effort to reconnect with old friends from home. Sure, it’s only a phone call, but it’s good to stay in touch. I’ve found that, in general, most of my friends have never been good at keeping up and that it (usually) has fallen on me to make the calls. Once we’re on the phone it’s like old times, but it’s usually on me to initiate it. Recently, a few of them have reached out to me first. That, however, is not the reason for this post.
I miss my old friends. I have realized that the reason I miss them so much has as much to do with the fact that those friendships are from a simpler time as it does missing their companionship. Distance in friendships has never been much of an issue with me. If we’re good friends, it doesn’t matter if we’re 2 or 2,000 miles away. That’s not the issue.
The truth is, I really enjoy talking with people who knew me “before.” Before this career, before car payments, responsibilities, titles, stress, uncertainty, 401(k)s, interest rates, and “the future.” Before I became what I am. I say “what” instead of “who” because I am, essentially, the same person. But now I’m surrounded by the trappings of adulthood: job titles, pressures, deadlines, worries: can I afford to buy a house? Will I ever get married? Is that a lump? These are the people who knew me when the greatest worry in my life was whether I would be able to get up for that 9:30 class when it was all the way across campus and it was only 5 degrees outside. The people who knew me when the most important decision I had to make was whether to blow $15 eating out or just go to the Buffett (sic); when my biggest responsibility was making sure my stupid drunken friends had a ride home (or didn’t get impaled by flying Kukri sharpening knives).
This is not to say that my new friends are not important. It is not to say that people I meet now will never know me. But they will know me as something different than those who knew me “before.” I no longer feel like the happy-go-lucky Midwestern boy I was back then and there. Everyone has to grow up eventually. Despite my best efforts, it would appear that I have done so. Introspection and self-examination are seldom easy, but they are important practices. It would truly be a sad thing to forget one’s origins.
So my old friends keep me grounded. They keep me from becoming too full of myself. They remember (and constantly bring up) all of the stupid little things I’ve done. They remind me that I was once an insecure, nerdy college kid who just wanted to hang out with my friends; who just wanted to be accepted; who wanted that girl to like him. They remind me that, no matter what happens, I am still that Midwestern boy; I am still insecure at times; I am still nerdy; and that I am not necessarily the big shot that I sometimes like to fancy myself.
And for that, I thank them.