2:09 p.m. - February 03, 2002
perceptions of people
I have to remember, sometimes, that people aren't necessarily the episodes at which I experience them. I kept thinking about the New Years party, and how incredibly, face-slackingly bored I was the entire time, not to mention disgusted, since half the people there wee either drunk or trying really hard to put out the image of being drunk, even if 'they' had only had a smidgen of wine, nine hours ago. And many people were out of town, and those who were visiting FROM out of town ended up capering off in the middle of the party to places unknown (but suspected to have gone to rip off booze from a 7-11), leaving in their wake distressed, sulky girlfriends.
Or I think about our little attempted drug escapade, which was many of the same people, but thinking about it now, that night was actually fun, despite the ending up in a cramped, smelly room. The rest was all good. But for some reason I don't remember that. I only remember New Years and the oh-so-infamous 'band' practice of October, where I was the 'roadie' (heavy quotes on that (read the link)), but even before the dismissal, I would sit in the room, on the couch, hands over ears, glaring, glaring, glaring. The unbelievable self centeredness, and I'm not just talking about one person. I do include myself, however. But still.
Though, as I do (however subconsciously) know, these people are not made up of my experiences with them. Last night, I had fun. And the sneaking suspicion I've always had that the reason I'm always so frustrated at these little get-togethers was because of only ONE person.. was confirmed. I have nothing against anybody else, really, and she was 'occupied'. (drugs and boys work wonders..) so I didn't really talk to her much. and when she whined, I wasn't around.
Instead, we went to Chase and played pool, went to Subway and ate, went to the skate park and snow-wrestled, I did flips on the bars like I haven't since I was ten, mostly because it would made me sick, but last night it didn't. And losing my keys would have been a major ordeal with anyone else, my friends who have cars and apartments and endless guilt, but then it wasn't a big thing. We went back and looked for them. And found them. And left. Why have a hissy fit?
I've noticed that the kids in my year are so eager to get away that they've kind of given up looking for new friends, new experiences, new anything really (except for Erik who is never satisfied (I'm sorry, E, but you know it's true)). Everyone, me included, just kind of sits around with their old friends, smoking and lazing and waiting for letters in the mail to confirm their plans for the rest of our lives. We don't care much about what happens, because in five or so months we'll leave it all behind. Making amazing new friends now wouldn't mean anything to us. We'd have to move away from it before anything even started.
Which is why I appreciated the vivacity of my sophomore and junior friends. Nobody my age would have snow-wrestled, or swung on the swings, or ran up and own the icy, deserted ramps of the skate park, or, really, had any conflict or action at all. We're all bored with each other. We sit around. Sometimes we reminisce. But we never bother making new memories.
Past experiences aren't all emcompassing. People can change, but more often, perceptions of people can change. I feel bad for who I thought the were and who I now realize they aren't at all.

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