My father used to say middle school is like an explosion in a cereal factory.
I trust you to get it.
But why do so many people stay flakey well beyond its useful life function?†
This is starting to look like my very first post, where I typed for DAYS and deleted and reworked and got all critical on my own ass... and eventually blurted. I've probably put six hours into various versions of who makes bad friends and why guys are easier than girls and the heartbreak of psoriasis.
The long and short? The eventual blurt?
I don't know.
I don't know how you make grown-up friends. I don't even know for sure if it's possible to "make" friends. Friends may just grow like metaphorical flowers on a trite piece of country-kitsch wallhanging.
For me, it boils down to honesty. Well, honesty and responsibility. Most people lack these in larger quantities than is strictly functional.‡ And that's why grown-up friendships are so rare.
I know you can eliminate a lot of the shitstorm by keeping things as shallow and one-dimensional as possible.
Not in a bad way.
In a low-maintenance, see-you-next-week-maybe, minimal responsibility/minimal chance for hurt feelings way. Knitting groups, adult education classes, bar-hopping -- ways to indulge in human contacts without necessarily making human contact.
It's like the styrofoam peanuts that fill the voids in your time and keep you from rattling around, but have no real nutritional value.
It's like babysitting and being able to give the kids back at the end of the night.
And it's probably a good way to test-drive a few folks and see if you want to take your mutual shallow thing outside that one-dimensional realm.
Not only that, if you have too many people in your world for whom you'd lay your life down, you're in imminent danger all the fucking time.
Seriously, those people you find (and thank gods we all have some of these) who are willing to be responsible for you, let you be responsible for them, and you can all be honest amongst yourselves... those people should be cherished. And encouraged. Possibly rewarded.
Go knit them socks.
[SUMMARY: Have a simile -- I made plenty.]
On the list of things to cherish, people who get my sense of humour.
Case in point: yesterday, I sent an email to various family members, thus:
Would each of you please provide me the following measurements at your earliest convenience:
Chest (the biggest part):
Hand (around knuckles):
Glove length (fingertip to wrist joint, right under the heel of your hand):
Head (measure around forehead where the band of a stocking cap would fall):
I figured it would allow me to knit on a whim or for a gift-giving occasions without having to tip my hand and spoil any potential surprise.
("Dad? It's me. Could you please go right now and measure around your knuckles? What? No reason. Just... curious. I certainly wouldn't be knitting you some gloves for your upcoming birthday.")
My sister-in-law replied thus:
> Chest (the biggest part): 3 wine bottles.
> Hand (around knuckles): 1/2 wine bottle
> Glove length (fingertip to wrist joint, right under the heel of your hand): 1/2 wine bottle
> Shoe size: 3/4 wine bottle
> Head (measure around forehead where the band of a
> stocking cap would fall): wine bottle and a half
I lost my tape measure today, but I'll send standard English measurements soon.
See? Funny and gets my funny. We'll probably keep her.%
Um... knitting: I finished the second border piece for Stupid Blanket and will have someone who knows better show me how to crochet it to the body of the beast.
I bought sock yarn yesterday. Pictures when we all need to feel better.
I tried to buy a blocking board at Hancock Fabrics yesterday, but to no avail. I don't want to wait six weeks for one. I'll probably spend three months looking for one in the stores.
Cat Bordhi has a new sock book coming out. The blurbs are so intriguing, but vague. It's like reading a wine review and wondering what the oenologist means by "altruistic."
But I know I have a responsibility to y'all to provide you quality knitting and quantity verbiage. And I won't let you down, at least on the verbiage front.
Knit me socks?
†FOOTNOTE (crossed): You know, to balance out hormones and shit.
‡FOOTNOTE (double-crossed): That's the nod to the fact that we all have weak spots and bad days and not even the bestest of us is honest and responsible all the time. I seek not perfection; I seek only reasonable measure. And not fucking with me.
%FOOTNOTE (percented): At least long enough to find out exactly *how* she measured her bust with a wine bottle. I might have to demand a demonstration. I'll take pictures.
Tomorrow... BoyCraft 2, the Shopping Years