Saturday
It’s mid morning and I have little to show for it. Worse yet, I don’t have a plan for the day.
Still tired from a late night (concert followed by the bar), I woke a little before 8am to the sound of the foghorn. After breakfast, I moved to the sofa where I’ve been digitally and mentally puttering about: scrolling social media, taking care of some website issue (slow connection and down server), reading a few poems, contemplating life, and trying to decide my day. Part of me wants to cook bolognese and invite a friend over for dinner. Part of me doesn’t want the time or social commitment of dinner. I know I should get outside, maybe sit on a bench or take a walk.
I’ve been in one of those “there’s more to life than this” moods.
Monday
The more to life mood came from reading poems that referenced Paris or Spain or shared experiences vastly different than my experiences. They made me feel as though I need to do more than knock about town, go to concerts, and hang out in bars until the wee hours of the morning. Moreover, a recent falling out with a friend coupled with a different friend moving away had me thinking about how thin my social connections are. Most of my friends are bar acquaintances. As such, the connections can feel superficial. I’m not sure we would hang out with each other outside of the bar.
Some of this is my doing – actually, much of it is. I’m afraid I’ve become aloof or distant over the past few years, and even more so since moving to California. I get invited to things but shy away from the commitment. And for those things that I enjoy doing (urban exploring, hanging in a park, going to shows), I seldom invite other people to join me. Some of that is because I’m not good at making plans in advance. I like and crave spontaneity and I like to keep my options open. Some of it is because I’ve gotten used to doing these things on my own (and maybe even prefer it). I’m not sure if one feeds the other. I’m not sure if I intentionally don’t plan in advance because I don’t want to commit to any one friend or if coordinating and committing to doing something with someone else requires more effort than I’m willing to exert.
Another consideration is that I’m also trying to leave myself open to meeting new people. If I want friends that stretch beyond the bar stool, I have to do things other than hang at the bar (but it’s such an easy and comfortable fallback). I’d be less inclined to talk to strangers, make new friends, or talk to women if I were at an event with one of my friends. And I think that gets close to the heart of the matter. I’d probably prefer to do most of these things with a “best friend” – a role which, for much of my life, was always filled by a romantic partner. With a partner, I’d be much more inclined to go out of my way to make plans. With a partner, there’s a much stronger desire to spend time together. Yet, even there, it’s gotten difficult to imagine liking anyone enough to get to that point. Again, mostly my doing – lack of effort, lack of focus.
Where I can show myself grace is in acknowledging that I’m unpracticed at this “deeper” friendship thing. For most of my adult life, between the ages of 18 and 42, I was in two serious, committed relationships in which there was one person with whom I did most things. Then for a few years, while single, I dated. Without really knowing it, I think my efforts in dating were attempts to get back to the only way I had known to live and what I was comfortable with: having one person with whom I did most things. When I found that person, I thought I was set. When it didn’t work, I went in the opposite direction. I moved away and decided to do almost everything on my own. Now, having done that for six or seven years in three different cities, it’s as if I only know those two options: solo with a handful of loose connections that I keep at a distance and only engage on my terms, or coupled with one primary connection.
The thing is, despite this feeling of wanting to expand (relationships, friendships, experiences), I ended up having a helluva day on Saturday (solo). After a slow morning that was half contemplation and half recovery, I went to the Haight to do some things for the food pantry where I work. There, I made the somewhat spur of the moment decision to go Golden Gate Park to see Flower Piano (the idea of going was already germinating when I left my place). Flower Piano is an annual event in which they set up a dozen pianos throughout the San Francisco Botanical Garden. They have some scheduled performances at the pianos, but otherwise, they’re open for the public to play – many of whom played classical pieces or jazzy improvs. After visiting the garden and listening to some music, I made my way over to the band shell to see if anything was going on. As I walked, I came across a baseball field where two teams were playing old timey baseball: no helmets, thin gloves no bigger than the size of one’s hand, big wooden bats, old-school uniforms. Delighted at the sight of this, I stuck around and watched for an inning. [Further research shows that it’s a league here that plays by the rules and customs of the game as it was played in 1886, and that the game I caught on Saturday was the championship game in which the Sea Lions beat the Eagles 13 to 9]. Then, at the band shell, there was a jazz recital. I sat on a bench in the shade of a tree and listened to a song or two. From there I started to head home, but just before exiting the park happened upon a large crowd attending an EU (European Union) festival. There were over a dozen tents representing different countries – most of them serving beer and food that was representative and maybe from their country. Of course, there was also live music – it seems like there’s always music playing somewhere in the park.
Despite wanting to cancel, I spent Sunday hiking with a friend and a hiking group that he recently joined. Wanting to cancel had nothing to do with the friend and everything to do with not wanting to commit my day. I was torn between hiking or watching football or cooking the slow dinner that I didn’t cook on Saturday. I’m glad that I went on the hike – I always enjoy it and often feel guilty for my hesitancy. I think that’s the caveat I need or want when I meet new friends or meet potential dates online. I’m low key and go with flow. I generally expect to do things on my own to the point of adopting a take it or leave it attitude when it comes to company. As a result, I tend not to give chase (in dating), and I’m not great at making plans or showing initiative or even staying in touch with friends. It’s not because I don’t like these people – maybe I’m just selfish and/or resigned to doing things my way and on my time. I’d like to say I’ll try to do better, but the reality is, I probably won’t.
Unrelated
This morning, just before 3am, there was an earthquake. It was the biggest one I’ve felt since moving out to California. It lasted for maybe five or ten seconds. My building shook, my bed shook, the closet doors rattled, the deodorant sticks on my dresser wobbled and toppled over. It lasted long enough for me to think, “oh shit, this could be a big one” but not long enough to rouse myself from bed and find a table to duck under. Also not long enough to think it was THE big one. In the moments after, I was very much awake. It took me an hour to fall back to sleep. I spent much of that time scrolling social media to see who was saying what about the quake. I was half expecting another quake and may have been a little amped up in anticipation. I found myself wanting some form of connection or community in that moment. I wanted to check in with people, talk about it, debrief. Did you just feel that? Thankfully, the adrenaline wore off and I fell back asleep.