I've been feeling an odd sort of contended lately. By lately, I mean the past few months. My whole memorable life--and by memorable I mean that I not only can distinctly remember it but it started contributing to what has so far been my relatively constant self-image--I've either deeply desired or deeply cherished my friends. I remember remembering how much it sucked to not have friends, and sympathizing with those who didn't, and then pondering on the nature of adulthood and realizing that very few adults have very many friends (leisuretime friends, that is), only a small fraction of whom have persisted since childhood, and thinking There's no way that will ever be me. I'll have friends forever.
And then I lost almost all my high school friends in a way that has come to be a rather unfortunate unkillable pattern: at times gradually, at times suddenly, but often without a sense of justice or even any tenable definition. That was alright, though, because within a few weeks of getting to college, I'd made them all back in spades, both quantitatively and qualitatively (I want to turn "quant and qual" into a phrase. Who's with me?!). And I thought, especially as I noticed drastic changes to my mentality and personality, "Alright, maybe keeping friends from high school is a bit unrealistic. But college friends, they're the cliche! 'Gonna be home late, my old drinking buddy from college is rolling through town.'" (Cliche especially prominent if one still lives in one's college town, which I personally think is super awkward but will save for another post.)
I'm still holding out hope, but the stats are against me: a good portion of my college buddies I'm either on bad terms with or have very irregular communication with/lost contact with. (I must say though, while the overall number of respondents was disappointing to say the least, the array of people who said they wanted to stay in contact as I FB-suicided was very interesting.) There are few I would consider naming for a List Of People I Still Consider To Be Friends. Now, to be fair, there are still some people from high school that I am in contact with who would be considered friends, but my argument still stands. Because I said so.
Then there was New Hope and Eau Claire and Grinnell, and while at least three excellent relationships emerged from that time...well, that number isn't bigger for lack of trying. I lost some friends who had survived every other test of time. Some important ones. The balance of the outcomes of my friendships was listing badly to the wrong side.
Coming to Colorado was tough, because it was sort of like starting everything over. It was like finally admitting, "Alright, I tried being an adult and a college student and a decent worker and a nice person and it just didn't work out this time. Time for round two." I decided that I would do my best to master the skill that has managed to elude me my whole life: learning from my mistakes, even when it means doing something I really don't want to do. I never wanted to stop desiring friends. I've enjoyed it so much my whole life. I've preached to myself about friends for years.
I came to realize, though, that I'd wrapped up my happiness in being able to make other people happy. As I was without that satisfaction at the beginning of this year, I definitely went into withdrawal. I lashed out against my resolve, tremening all over the place, trying to make friends hand over fist. That's a bit dramatic, but even still, I went out on a number of limbs to try to find some people who would at the very least appreciate me.
Failing those attempts, I tackled the problem from another direction, one that popped up into my face from wiki just yesterday: misanthropy. And this is why the contentedness I've been feeling is so odd.
I didn't know I was doing it, honest I didn't! "In Western philosophy, misanthropy is connected to isolation from human society... Misanthropy...is presented as the result of thwarted expectations or even excess optimism." Aristotle suggests that what is needed to avoid this is "to recognize that the majority of men are found to be in between good and evil," though I think this characterization fits me less than the others.
Yeah, I've definitely got some of that. In convincing myself that I didn't really need friends to be happy, I think I inadvertently convinced myself that friends suck, and as people make the most natural friends, people also suck. Hence, misanthropy.
But regardless of what the 'wubs say, I don't think I'm that far gone yet. Because when I stumbled across this wiki that I felt so accurately described my experiences, I immediately felt some glimmer of hope that maybe there are other people out there like me! But why would that make me hopeful? Because they could be people I could relate to. Which would make them good friends. By definition, though, a true misanthrope wouldn't even want another misanthrope as a friend. Besides, every misanthrope has a different reason for being that way. My way of coming to feel this way, while common in the generalities, is unique in the specifics, and likely so is its remedy.
It all makes me wonder, though...how many misanthropes are there, brooding in a basement, getting wasted at a bar, rotting in a jail cell, sleeping under a bridge, slaving over a canvas, thinking last thoughts? Is it something that can be known?
Is it something we want to know?
Allude, illude, elude. Damn you English.
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