Inland, Dreaming of Waves

Not a joiner

The previous post made me think about my social life—all of it, from childhood till now.

I’ve hardly ever been a part of a group of friends. Usually I’ve had friends in different groups and tried to bring them together.

It’s funny—two of my best friends in high school are now best friends in Kansas City, and I hardly ever see them. In high school and college, they didn’t appreciate each other very much. Now they discuss their kids and embroider socks together.

I miss them.

I guess there were a couple of times in college when I was part of a group—most notably when I spent my junior year at Sussex in England and spent my time with a mostly American group of friends. I had British friends too but didn’t see them as often. And yet, there always comes a time when I feel alone in the group, and I’ve decided that this is something I do somehow.

Why? Because Mr. Arnall said so.

Mr. Arnall was my high school sex ed teacher. And though he didn’t teach me enough about sex to keep me from getting pregnant at age 18, he did say one thing that has stuck with me all these years: “If the same thing keeps happening to you, you’re doing something to bring it on.” Or maybe he said, “If the same thing keeps happening, it does something for you.”

You get the gist of it, I hope.

Now, don’t get me wrong. Sometimes the same bad things happens to the same person more than once, and I don’t mean to blame rape victims for their rape or load guilt onto people who’ve been traumatized. But I do recognize a certain wisdom in his answer.

I just can’t help but hold myself back a little. Maybe it comes from being a writer and not wanting to get too close to these people who are going to be fodder for my creativity. Maybe it’s the way I guarantee freedom. I’m not sure, but it almost always happens. I can talk myself out of it for a while, but not forever.

I’m just not a joiner. In my heart I still think that someday I’ll set out for the rest of the world and spend my last days passing in and out of people’s lives, with no permanent home. I used to think that would definitely be how my life would go—no settled place, no family, no mortgage, etc. Now I’m not so sure, but that dream of movement still has a romance to it that draws me.

Maybe this dream of mine is part of that universal human dream to set out for the west or for the farthest islands or for the end of the world. Maybe that's why I'm a Lord of the Rings fan--because it ends that way, with a journey (though Sam, of course, does come home. But do you really want to be Sam?).

posted by Price of Silence @ 9:47 PM