A semi outskirt-y friend of mine released a book. To celebrate this blessed occasion, he hosted a party. To try to re-connect, and honestly support someone who’s craft I not only admire, but wish to emulate; I attended.
I couldn’t help but feel incredibly, undeniably… outskirt-y.
I brought a compatriot, I came baring wine (albeit, basement barrel), and was even lucky enough to have friends who could be better described as “in-circle” to keep me padded comfortably in a nice little people bubble of belonging. Yet, there was this overwhelming sense of “outer edge” I just couldn’t shake.
How did I managed going through partial high school, college, and 5 years of post, being around this person, but never really honestly “knowing” him. While my friends talked about being “old friends” and lumped me very generously into this category- I couldn’t help but wonder if I even was. Acquaintance seemed cold and annoying- I HAD to be more than that bullshit, but really…we’ve never hung out one-on-one.
Outskirt-y.
As I sat and sipped on my paper cup o’ vino, I realized I was having a very unique experience compared to that of the pocket of people I was surrounded by. I was not into the hippy endurance hug participation the rest of the party was exhibiting. I didn’t have the cushion of past memories with the host to ensure my belonging at the book release. Yet, the friend I brought, could completely rely on the fact that she was a third party, gently coasting on her anonymity. While I, experiencing a smattering of events through the years- made me both familiar and enigmatic.
Which is just a pretty way of describing awkward.
February 22nd, 2010 at 8:05 pm
Huh. Interesting. Particularly to compare with someone who has no burden of “knowing”.