Whatever Happened To? (1/15/09 Thursday)

There will be no farewells. There were no takers at Tuckahoe. I have to figure out how to adjust. My first thought was to seek work elsewhere, but that's not realistic in this economic climate. My second thought was to win the lottery, a slightly less likely opportunity. After those, what is there?

I'm casting around for friends at work, but the best I can do is allies. That's not enough. Am I just looking for someone to undburden myself to? Probably. I wouldn't be much of a friend in that case, for how much would I care to hear their problems? If I've become demanding of friends it's because I know how far short I myself fall from my ideals. I am who I am and can be a good friend, but not to everyone. I'm weary of reaching out. Look where it's gotten me: more alone than ever. As with love, friendship has to come unbidden through a wide-open door. Perhaps that's a strange thing for me to say, having as I do such stringent membership requirements, but I'm not prepared right now to think that one out. It's just another irony, and all ironies make sense.

My adjustment will be difficult to achieve without that attitude. Otherwise, I can only stare agog at the utter unreality of the situation, for nothing makes the kind of sense it should. The more sense I try to make of it, the more I wonder how I could be the only one to see it, the more disappointed I become in the vapidity of my coworkers, the more alienated I feel. This mass delusion-- Is this the social contract we must all sign to assure a facade of happiness? Happiness is elusive. Must we settle for the pretense of it? or is it worth the uncertain pursuit? You know my answer.

I ignored Julie entirely yesterday. I brought the music back in and drowned her out with Buzzcocks. Today I work the same shift, and I ride in with Stacey. Julie and Stacey always park near each other. If they arrive at the same time I'll walk ahead, not waiting for Stacey to gather her stuff. I'll warn her before we get there.

We didn't get there--or, at least, Stacey didn't. I walked over to her place a few minutes later than usual, and her car wasn't there. I didn't think even she would forget me. When I got back I checked the answering machine in case she'd called while I was in the shower. Nothing. I changed into the bike clothes, transferred my stuff to the bike, called to announce my lateness and left, fuming. Finally, the physical manifestation of her ethical desertion of me.