Not to be too dramatic
So, I think I've only had one mental breakdown in my life...
and I feel another one coming on.
And I wish Meg was here to make me feel OK about.
But I think its only going to be compounded by guilt and shame.
I've started a new rule where I force myself to:
a) Meet a new person every week and make their acquaintance
b) Try something new.
This week I met Scott and we are going to the shooting range.
I'm not good at meeting new people is all my rule has illuminated. I really get way too disappointed in people. In the nine weeks since winter break I have probably had nine sit down chats over dinner or coffee with mostly complete strangers (people from the law school, friends of friends, someone from a concert). How does someone not know that a man named Tolstoy existed. Honestly, I don't care if you don't know the difference between Gogol and Ibsen and Kundera and Tolstoy and the fucking pope. But not to even know that he exists? Or to know where the Arab peninsula is... like in the Middle East, where half your tax money is going to fight a war. Or to want to tell me the synopsis of all your favorite episodes of Friends (Is not the Other's default impression that you have no life...?) OK, enough ranting... I just don't know how people got to become so interested in themselves, they forgot how to be interesting to other people.
I think I'm probably definitely leaving Seattle... perhaps for good... perhaps by June...
and I feel another one coming on.
And I wish Meg was here to make me feel OK about.
But I think its only going to be compounded by guilt and shame.
I've started a new rule where I force myself to:
a) Meet a new person every week and make their acquaintance
b) Try something new.
This week I met Scott and we are going to the shooting range.
I'm not good at meeting new people is all my rule has illuminated. I really get way too disappointed in people. In the nine weeks since winter break I have probably had nine sit down chats over dinner or coffee with mostly complete strangers (people from the law school, friends of friends, someone from a concert). How does someone not know that a man named Tolstoy existed. Honestly, I don't care if you don't know the difference between Gogol and Ibsen and Kundera and Tolstoy and the fucking pope. But not to even know that he exists? Or to know where the Arab peninsula is... like in the Middle East, where half your tax money is going to fight a war. Or to want to tell me the synopsis of all your favorite episodes of Friends (Is not the Other's default impression that you have no life...?) OK, enough ranting... I just don't know how people got to become so interested in themselves, they forgot how to be interesting to other people.
I think I'm probably definitely leaving Seattle... perhaps for good... perhaps by June...