...and so the nights fade to morning.

So, that guy? ("Who, forbidden-fruit guy?" "No, perfect platonic relationship guy - honestly, keep up, will you?") We talked again tonight...and it was wonderful. I've had a fairly miserable Friday and Saturday. Aside from dealing with an old crush, I've been PMSing - I hate not being in control of my own emotions, dammit - and I've had annoying customers at the restaurant. After work tonight, I ended up back at my dorm, even though no one else is really coming back until tomorrow. Once I was back in the safety of home, because that's what my dorm really is, all the frustration and annoyed bitchiness I had pent up just came to the fore, and I had to let it out. So I get on iChat, talk to a few friends, and he messages me. We talk about mundane and random things for a bit before I start on my emotional rollercoaster of a tirade, which degenerates into "Fuck it, I need to actually talk to someone about this. I'm calling you."

And then what started out as me venting my emotions and frustration while someone listened and commented turned into a real conversation, and went on and on...until I finally brought it up.

"You know how we're open about everyone? Well it's actually hard to talk to someone about themselves. Like right now. Talk to me about me."

"Damn, well I - that *is* hard..."

"OK, I'll go first."

And I launched into it, talking about what I thought when I first saw him, how that changed, and then what I saw as the turning points of our relationship, ending with how much both he and our friendship meant to me. The best part? Just like everything else, when I was done with it all it felt so normal that I knew I'd been silly to harbor any of those doubt I'd had before. Of course, hearing about myself was also nice - honestly, who doesn't like hearing about themselves? We're selfish creatures really...as for us, well, we talked for more than 3 hours. And now it's 5:30 and I need to get to bed, like the rest of the world, only I lose an hour of sleep. But I can't be angry about Daylight Savings Time, because right now I'm too damn happy.

Forbidden, forgotten...friend zone? Oh, fuck.

"Stop the car!"

My mother brakes and I shoulder my bag as I slam the car door and run towards the guy with the green jacket and crooked grin. I call out his name and he turns and looks at me - I melt under the gaze of those clear blue eyes. His arms open wide and enfold me as he kisses me gently...on the cheek. (Honestly, I know you heard the dramatic music swelling and then cutting out with a "wah, wah, waaaaah" sound. My life is like a bad TV show.)

"Theo! Where the hell have you been! I haven't seen you in ages - listen, I've gotta run to class, but give me a call, maybe we can grab breakfast tomorrow."

As he runs off to class, I walk to the library, deep in thought...

Life has a funny way of bringing people together, then drifting them apart; but sometimes, it doesn't let them get close enough, either. See, before I went to my current college, I took part-time college courses during high school at another college in the area. That's where I met this guy, two years ago - basically, we sat in the same row in Gen Bio 2, and I remember seeing him for the first time and thinking "There's just something about him..." He's one of those instantly likable, approachable people, kind of like a big teddy bear (the athlete's physique and Boston accent didn't hurt, either). We started talking a few weeks into the semester, but the more I saw him, the more I got that sinking feeling I was getting stuck in the friend zone. That's when I found out he had a girlfriend. But at the same time, I was falling for him; every time I walked into a building or turned a corner, or went to grab lunch, I hoped I'd see him. If I didn't, I was disappointed, but if I did, I felt this odd combination of happiness and regret. Each smile from him when he saw me hurt as much as it satisfied, and that's how it went. What really cinched it was finals week; we had just finished one hell of a practical for lab and were studying for the lecture final the next morning. He's not a science major, so I was explaining some concept or another when he came out with

"Geez, Theo - you know this stuff better than I do, but you're...what, now?"

"Sixteen."

"This is like studying for my Bio final with my little sister."

And that was the end of any last little bit of hope I may have had. Because when you're stuck that deep in the friend zone, you never get out. Ever. The year ended, I came back to take more courses the next year and saw him every so often. We would get breakfast or lunch together some days, or just wave across the quad on our way to different classes - and then that year ended and I transferred to my current college. Now I'm on Spring Break, and I have this paper due on Monday, so I came up to the college library to research it since they're not on break yet, and who's the first person I see as my car pulls into the college? Him. Those feelings return out of nowhere, like the taste of something forbidden, yet forgotten. I had inured myself to it then, but after almost a year I had forgotten how oddly good it was - and now I have to do it all over again.

Looking back on the whole thing now, though, I just had an epiphany; what I said in my other post, about being called "like a sister"? How odd that the same words that open something in one relationship can completely close a possibility in another.

Oh, generation gap...

So it's a slow day at the restaurant and the last table leaves. My mom sits down across the table from me, and comes out with

"What's your plan for tomorrow? Let me tell you: you'll get up around 12, get cereal, leave the box on the counter, take the bowl to your room and leave it there, and then I'll see you around 4:30 for work. Friday and Saturday will be the same thing, and then Sunday you'll be back at school."

Immediately I know where this is going. See, I used to be very close with my mom, but that may have had to do with the fact that I was homeschooled, and we own a restaurant so we work together. Basically, we were together 24/7, so of course we talked about a lot of things. Then, I went to college, forged new relationships, and found other people that I had things in common with to talk to and share things with - because as much as I love my mother, we don't have all that much in common.

She was born in Paris in 1953, grew up there, got married, moved to Philly and worked at her husband's bakery at my age (18), had a kid, got divorced a few years later, and worked as a waitress in a 5-star bistro before marrying my father - a Greek sailor - and buying a restaurant of their own. I, on the other hand, was born and raised in a small Pennsylvania town (albeit with very European values & mindset) and homeschooled completely until college. And she's surprised that we're drifting apart...the thing is, though, I don't want it to happen, but I can't seem to stop it. I want to share my life and my views with her, and I tried to put the intangible "why" of why we're drifting into words. Part of it is that she isn't interested in the things that interest me, and vice versa; I'm a geek in many ways, and I also love the random and absurd, whereas she has to be able to "relate to things". She used to be very open and adventurous, and then she became religious - I'm at a point in my life where I don't want to take everything seriously, because I know I'll have to later...yet I feel like I'm hurting her as we drift apart and I don't know how to stop it. Feeling helpless is just miserable...but I know that eventually I'll mature and we'll get closer again. For now, I know I'm doing as much as I can while staying true to myself, and I still have my friends to lean on.

The Human Connection

To continue last night's post...there's this guy. When I first met him, he was in a relationship and kind of reclusive. However, once that relationship ended, he started getting to know people better, myself included. Then, this thing kind of happened where we ended up being the last people in the dorm lounge and started talking about everything that was shit in our lives - a heart-to-heart, really. That's when I realized what a wonderful person he really is, and when he realized that just because I talk doesn't mean I talk about people. I think that's when I gained his trust, and things changed yet again.

And then this week, he said something so sweet, whether he realized it or not; he was just completing a thought, and ended with "...you know why? Because you're like a sister to me." And that's when I realized how I felt about him. I felt like I had known him my entire life, that I could trust him with anything, that no matter what, I could come to him and he would be there. As much as I love my roommate, she isn't good at handling emotional situations, so I would never put her in that kind of situation, and the friends that I would talk to live hours away. That doesn't mean I can't talk to them, but I'm also a very physical person, and the ability to talk to someone in the same room somehow makes it better. But despite all this, and the fact that I can usually say anything, part of me is afraid to tell him. It's kind of like being afraid to tell someone you love them because it may not be reciprocated, only not...I don't know if he'll ever read this, but I appreciate him more than I think he knows, and knowing I have him to fall back on if I need a shoulder or an ear or anything is the most wonderful and the warmest feeling ever. Do you have any idea how comforting it is to feel that way about someone in a platonic relationship? If you don't, you're missing out on something indescribably normal, odd as that sounds, and if you do, well, enjoy it.

Post-midnight ramblings

A blog...funny, but even though I've been writing for all my - well, I wouldn't say adult life, but does mature life work well enough? - mature life, I never got into the blogging "scene". I've found words are cathartic, and when there's no one to listen, then writing gets everything out so I can at least quiet the storm of thoughts in my head and get on with my life. Because I write to get things out, I love the tactility of pen and paper. Somehow, I feel like I'm physically pouring my frustration or my happiness or whatever overwhelming feeling I have onto the paper, something I don't get from typing (as much as I love my MacBook).

This can be almost single-handedly blamed on one of my friends, who mentioned that he liked the validation of having a blog; the possibility that someone might find your thoughts and read them is oddly daunting and comforting at the same time. So here goes...

College. So much has changed for me since I started, changes that (as cliché as it sounds) I never would have thought possible. You should know that I was homeschooled my entire life, and while I definitely break from the "traditional" image of a reserved, socially inept mousey thing, I never really felt like I was a part of something more than myself, my education, my life, and my future before this. It might be that most other homeschoolers were so WASP I couldn't relate, or that they tried to make sense of me and failed, but I always felt like a third wheel, even in a group of 10 or 12. I always initiated things, and no one really seemed to care about me. When I was taking college courses in high school, I did find people I related to more, but there was still the age gap issue, and I never really felt like anyone's equal. (sidenote: this entire post is sounding way too emo for my liking, because I usually am a ray of sunshine - maybe it's the weather. You can put the tissues away though, things cheer up soon.)

Then, I got to my small-town liberal arts college, not quite sure what to expect. Things got off to a good start though; my roommate turned out to be my introverted self - we have a lot in common, and I love her to death - which was interesting, I liked most of my classes, and I noticed that our class seemed to have some interesting people in it. Still, it was too early to actually know anyone. Eventually, a group started to form that I was somewhat a part of, but since most of the people in that group were from the same dorm (which wasn't mine), I still felt somewhat third-wheel-ish randomly coming into their lounge. But then, the strangest thing happened; people started asking for my number instead of me asking for theirs. I started getting called up when things were happening. People would randomly say hi to me without me going right up to them. And yet, something was still not quite right. Winter break came and passed, and I wondered what this semester would bring.

It was wonderful. I came back the first day, and I realized how much I had missed these people, who had been strangers only months ago. Then, the epic adventures began. I started taking up random offers by people. For example: "Hey, who wants to walk around and try to get lost?" (at 1:30 AM) It might not seem that crazy, but trust me, interesting things can happen, even in the quietest towns. But what I think really changed this semester was that I found someone to fill a certain need - someone I could talk to about anything, who would listen and be there, and give a crap. On that note - goodnight, internet. Or good morning. Life's only a matter of perspective anyway, right?