Experiencers

Today was quiet. I tried reading up one several things at once. It's been ages since I've had an extended roll of hours like this. Even in the noise the silence came through, dominant and it is welcoming as well as disconcerting. Especially for a person like me, who needs to engage when the hours of engagement have been put on paper and signed. Like a job contract?

 

It's not like I feel guilty, I just feel like I'm not being useful, when I'm supposed to be.

 

Anyway, as I sat and read the reports on renewable energy, art and restaurant reviews from pages across the world, I suddenly had a thought about friends.

 

If you look at the long list I have on facebook; I'd almost believe I'm a pretty popular person. The thing is, see, I'm not.

And all those people - the 200+ - are faces I know, some are good people I know, some are people I just met and know, others I just know and a handful, nay, a smidgen of those are friends.

 

I don't know if I can call them real friends. To be fair to them and myself, I really don't know what constitutes a good friendship. The bar is different for every single person.

 

For most it constitutes meaningful hours and experiences spent with a group, that over time learn of your nuances, internalise them and accept you for who you are. Sometimes they celebrate you.

 

For others, it's a lot deeper. It's those one or three people who know everything. Everything there is to know. They transcend family and become an inseparable part of you. Your hip, arm, heart, lung...

 

No, I don't have that with anyone.

 

For another set, it's people who make them laugh, shout, dance, have a good time.

 

For some more, it's the people who are at your door even if it's 3 a.m. and you just wanted to cry about that crappy date or horrible interview or worse, a break-up.

 

For me, I think friendship is a place where I can pick up from where I left off, even if there are 5 years between us. Not age, but time.

 

I have that with , Goomphy, Abe, Brother Bear, Absolut, Twister sister, Sandy, SKfan, Boukheir and V (holler out to the online buddy). 

 

There are no judgements, no questions. Just a quick hello and straight to business. No frequent updates on email, or incessent (ILU ILU) phonecalls. No mush. No explanations. I don't know if they'd be at my door at 3:00 a.m. I don't know if they'd qualify as that missing organ, I don't know if they care whether I win or lose. 

 

All I know, is when we meet or speak or chat or call - it could be years, months, days or hours but it is just like nothing happened since we last met. Nothing existed since that last ding!

 

We don't care about what we've achieved, we don't care about what we've not achieved. Well, I don't, so I can say that for sure. In my heart I know I speak for the lot of them. We're aware of our milestones, and a nod and grin speaks volumes between the lot of us. They celebrate your victory if you want to, though. Any excuse to share good vibes. Yeah, sure! Of course.

 

I do believe we care about each other very much, in an extremely twisted way. When we meet or communicate, it's always reminiscing about something that happened and defined us as people or creating an experience that we can add to the collection.

 

To most, in fact, anyone that have witnessed these episodes (lingo - epidose!), nothing out of the ordinary happens. In fact to most, it could easily be labelled boring. But magical things happen, you know. Things that even the said participants don't see, until we meet again and dredge it up. That's when our eyes widen and we know that we will never be the same since. 

 

Like wine. Good wine.  

 

Y'see anyone can be a part of this experience, and most of the times there are a few; we remember. But like catalysts, they remain the same, no change whatsoever. But then the effervescence they add - ooh boy! I would like to officially thank the 'bystanders' immensely. You just don't know what you've helped along. Visionaries the lot of you! Lol.

 

So...do I have friends? Haha! No I don't. But, I have experiencers.

And that for me is a reality, I will thank my good fortune - for - better or worse. 

We were supposed to have a meeting this evening. It's 36 minutes past the assigned time. No one bloody cares, really. Because time here, isn't as valuable as the notes that one makes at the end of the month.

My time has been desecrated ever since I decided to live and work here. My skills and talents to plug holes that others don't have time or interest to fix. If anyone wants to know where to get that small item they require, or need a spelling or an extension number of fellow colleague - who ya gonna call? Moi.

I seem to know everything and yet nothing seems to fall in place. For me. I feel like I'm welling up with possibilities and like a helium balloon that catches someone's fancy for that one moment in time, I'm then let out into the open or left in a room to rot, until the very thing I was given attention for suddenly pales and is now no longer relevant.

It seeps out slowly, in whispers. And then slowly from that amazing height, I float down, bit by bit, until I'm crumpled in the corner and then crushed into a bin.

Self-pity.

My father told me it was the one thing that could destroy a person without even trying. So what do I call this reality?

I had ambition once, a vision that would help change the people and the sector I worked in. I was then introduced to the real world and the real corporate. It doesn't matter who or where you are. Unless you're at the source, can play politics and dress sexy - no one really cares who you are.

You can have all the talent, integrity, ideas and ability, but if you can't pander or play a little 'go seek' - no one's interested.

I fancied a swank office once; I'm sitting in one that can be. I fancied a great strategic job once, I've got one that could have been, I fancied the cover of a magazine once, but after seeing the lengths of compromise I have to make to get there, I can no say I don't want to anymore.

Because I can't smile long enough to make it look real. I can't engage in banal exchange long enough to make it look like it matters, I can't get along with people that really just need a kick up their behinds for their self-involved idiocy. I've tried and I fail so miserably, because even the uninitiated knows that I'm faking.

They all know. And they feel sad for me. That's all I get for showing them the truth. Sadness. Pity. And a little self-indulged pat on the back.

I believe being different beams you up to planet lonely. Where you get your own country and a flag. Only to realise that's a snow globe that everyone shakes when they feel bored so that they can watch the flakes fall around you. Double meaning intended.

Just a little bit longer.

Just a little bit.

Just a little.

Just.

It doesn't exist anymore.