The Hub & Spoke
Over the past couple of years I think we've all become even more aware that the connections between us are tenuous and contingent. In films they talk about the 1" barrier for foreign films, which is the barrier of the audience being bothered to read the subtitles. Covid has been just such a barrier even in the times where it has not particularly affected us here in Aotearoa. It's not that one can't read subtitles, and it's not that prior to Omicron one couldn't socialise, but for me and I assume many others, it just tested or broke habitual ways of thinking. I don't socialise for much the same reason as I don't bike around as my primary mode anymore: my peak reliance on bicycling didn't coincide with the lack of a car, it coincided with the pyschology that I didn't even think about an alternative to biking unless the need was pressing. Musing along these lines has suggested a couple of theories that I'd like to put to ether, about how my friendships have worked and how they've run aground in the last couple of years, but first, I just need to address the elephant.
When I write about a movie, it's in the knowledge that nobody with any significant connection to the work will read it. When I post about about gaming, it's usually in the spirit of a critique that I'd more than happily front face-to-face (and often have done so). When you try and post some generalised thoughts about friendship in the semi-abstract, it's going to touch the nerves of friends, who, not-unreasonably, will see a slight passive-aggressive commentary. It's unavoidable when thinking about how you've lost friends, to also think about the friends you've lost. Perhaps the defining characteristic of a foundering relationship is precisely that you've lost the ability to meaningfully communicate directly. Maybe if I had the perspicuity and tenacity to fight, and the unshakeable faith that mine was a friendship that should be cherished, this post would be unnecessary.
My first theory of frienship is habit. I think we become friends with the people we see often and habitually. This is a positive feedback cycle too, in that we're more likely to often and habitually see the people we think of as friends. I've strongly come to believe that this is the deep and true appeal of the suite of ensemble comedy shows that dominate the televisual space. Sarah recently re-watched How I Met Your Mother, and in dipping in and out of the show I came to recognise that there's really not any dramatic interest in whether or how Ted eventually meets the mother of his children. The fantasy here isn't a romantic one, the fantasy is that there is a group of friends who are unshakeably close. No show was more honest about this than Friends, but every comedy about early-stage adults centres on the constancy of a social clique. How I Met Your Mother doesn't end with the way Ted meets the mother, instead the whole last season is a series of glimpses at the fracture points that will lead to the post-clique life. Ted replaces Lilly, Marshall, et al, with his kids. In extremis, friendship is definitely predicated on a certain minimum intensity and frequency of contact.
When you see someone after a long period, it can be daunting to try and catch them up on the key events of your life. I had a convivial chat with an acquaintance that I hadn't seen in a few years, and when I started to relate the last few years it quickly got out of hand. In semi-reverse chronology, changed jobs a couple of times, bought a house, retired from ultimate, settled down with a girl. I doubt there's anyone of my "friends" on facebook that wouldn't be curious to hear this outline, and perhaps an elaboration of one or two key events that catches an imaginative spark. There's a decent list of people that I think I'd want to know if there was some major upheaval in my life, even if I might not be organised enough to actually transmit that knowledge. Friends just sort of want to be involved in your life, I think. But, there's a limit, varied by friend. I think of this as the Quantum of Friendship, and it makes me feel bad as a human being that I've lost interest while some friends have told me about moving house or buying a car. Yet, my best friend will send me a message telling me they're listening to a particular bit of music and I'll find myself genuinely interested. I guess if I had to bury someone I'd murdered in cold blood, there's a dozen people I know would bring a shovel and take the secret to their own grave. The number of people who'd care that I can't find a mask I like, or that I've been thrashing Five Fingered Death Punch lately is considerably lower. This also contributes into my reduction in blogging output, since even I'm not that interested in my pedestrian musings on obscure films anymore.
Similarly, I think I've forgotten how to hang out. Even into my middle twenties, I'd often just find myself turning up at a selection of friends' houses, comfortable that I was uninvited but not unwanted, and just exist in the same space. Might watch some TV, or just talk meaningless trash. Because the stakes were so low, if it seemed like something else was going on, pulling the plug on the visit wasn't a big deal. Perhaps it was my stay in the UK that short-circuited all such activities. Now I find myself really only seeing friends for specific and purposeful activities. Want to play a board-game? Want to go to a movie? Want to meet for lunch? Never, drop past unannounced to watch some TV, or just ramble about fixing the problems of the world. A general ambient relationship just seems too amorphous. Paradoxically, increasingly defining relationships has meant I instinctively see a lot of mundane well-wishing as empty performative filler. I turned off my birthday display on Facebook because I found it very depressing to only have a generic and semiotically empty "Happy Birthday" from a lot of people from whom I never otherwise heard - and doubtless, who never heard from me. Clearly they had a residual positive feeling toward me, but one I couldn't enjoy.
One way or another, my social circle has shrunk in every meaningful way over the past few years. The peak of socialiting was that first few years of Creature, where I must have had regular social contact in a range of contexts with 50 or so people. Even when I think about the number of people I thought it was important to invite to my wedding in 2013, that number boggles my mind now, and in fact I'm really only in contact with a handful of those people still. Conversely, in my casual survey, the people who are important to me now have generally been in my life a long time, and I've been starting to think of them specifically as people I'll continue to know. Everything in my 20s was haphazard, from my fitness regime, to my social life, to my ultimate play style... there wasn't much of a plan. Maybe now at least I recognise the value of the people who value me in a way I didn't used to. It's a nice thought anyway.
When I write about a movie, it's in the knowledge that nobody with any significant connection to the work will read it. When I post about about gaming, it's usually in the spirit of a critique that I'd more than happily front face-to-face (and often have done so). When you try and post some generalised thoughts about friendship in the semi-abstract, it's going to touch the nerves of friends, who, not-unreasonably, will see a slight passive-aggressive commentary. It's unavoidable when thinking about how you've lost friends, to also think about the friends you've lost. Perhaps the defining characteristic of a foundering relationship is precisely that you've lost the ability to meaningfully communicate directly. Maybe if I had the perspicuity and tenacity to fight, and the unshakeable faith that mine was a friendship that should be cherished, this post would be unnecessary.
My first theory of frienship is habit. I think we become friends with the people we see often and habitually. This is a positive feedback cycle too, in that we're more likely to often and habitually see the people we think of as friends. I've strongly come to believe that this is the deep and true appeal of the suite of ensemble comedy shows that dominate the televisual space. Sarah recently re-watched How I Met Your Mother, and in dipping in and out of the show I came to recognise that there's really not any dramatic interest in whether or how Ted eventually meets the mother of his children. The fantasy here isn't a romantic one, the fantasy is that there is a group of friends who are unshakeably close. No show was more honest about this than Friends, but every comedy about early-stage adults centres on the constancy of a social clique. How I Met Your Mother doesn't end with the way Ted meets the mother, instead the whole last season is a series of glimpses at the fracture points that will lead to the post-clique life. Ted replaces Lilly, Marshall, et al, with his kids. In extremis, friendship is definitely predicated on a certain minimum intensity and frequency of contact.
When you see someone after a long period, it can be daunting to try and catch them up on the key events of your life. I had a convivial chat with an acquaintance that I hadn't seen in a few years, and when I started to relate the last few years it quickly got out of hand. In semi-reverse chronology, changed jobs a couple of times, bought a house, retired from ultimate, settled down with a girl. I doubt there's anyone of my "friends" on facebook that wouldn't be curious to hear this outline, and perhaps an elaboration of one or two key events that catches an imaginative spark. There's a decent list of people that I think I'd want to know if there was some major upheaval in my life, even if I might not be organised enough to actually transmit that knowledge. Friends just sort of want to be involved in your life, I think. But, there's a limit, varied by friend. I think of this as the Quantum of Friendship, and it makes me feel bad as a human being that I've lost interest while some friends have told me about moving house or buying a car. Yet, my best friend will send me a message telling me they're listening to a particular bit of music and I'll find myself genuinely interested. I guess if I had to bury someone I'd murdered in cold blood, there's a dozen people I know would bring a shovel and take the secret to their own grave. The number of people who'd care that I can't find a mask I like, or that I've been thrashing Five Fingered Death Punch lately is considerably lower. This also contributes into my reduction in blogging output, since even I'm not that interested in my pedestrian musings on obscure films anymore.
Similarly, I think I've forgotten how to hang out. Even into my middle twenties, I'd often just find myself turning up at a selection of friends' houses, comfortable that I was uninvited but not unwanted, and just exist in the same space. Might watch some TV, or just talk meaningless trash. Because the stakes were so low, if it seemed like something else was going on, pulling the plug on the visit wasn't a big deal. Perhaps it was my stay in the UK that short-circuited all such activities. Now I find myself really only seeing friends for specific and purposeful activities. Want to play a board-game? Want to go to a movie? Want to meet for lunch? Never, drop past unannounced to watch some TV, or just ramble about fixing the problems of the world. A general ambient relationship just seems too amorphous. Paradoxically, increasingly defining relationships has meant I instinctively see a lot of mundane well-wishing as empty performative filler. I turned off my birthday display on Facebook because I found it very depressing to only have a generic and semiotically empty "Happy Birthday" from a lot of people from whom I never otherwise heard - and doubtless, who never heard from me. Clearly they had a residual positive feeling toward me, but one I couldn't enjoy.
One way or another, my social circle has shrunk in every meaningful way over the past few years. The peak of socialiting was that first few years of Creature, where I must have had regular social contact in a range of contexts with 50 or so people. Even when I think about the number of people I thought it was important to invite to my wedding in 2013, that number boggles my mind now, and in fact I'm really only in contact with a handful of those people still. Conversely, in my casual survey, the people who are important to me now have generally been in my life a long time, and I've been starting to think of them specifically as people I'll continue to know. Everything in my 20s was haphazard, from my fitness regime, to my social life, to my ultimate play style... there wasn't much of a plan. Maybe now at least I recognise the value of the people who value me in a way I didn't used to. It's a nice thought anyway.