Old Friends

I had lunch today with two friends who I met only a few years ago. I didn’t have any kind of history with them or know mutual people. We worked together and our friendship grew. They are some of the newest people in my life who I have a close relationship with. My new friends. Less than a year ago I moved to a different city where I know literally no one other than my husband. I’ve met people here, but haven’t formed any substantial friendships. Suddenly my new friends are not so new. 

Maintaining relationships with people is hard. I am not good at it. I don’t call people and stay in touch. Creating new relationships might be harder. Getting to know people in a social setting often feels like work. You have to strike a balance of putting yourself out there and protecting yourself in case this turns out to be someone you can’t trust. There’s also a balance of being yourself without letting your weird show the first time you go for coffee. I tend to act more reserved. Then people are a little surprised when they find out I’m much louder and odder than previously thought. I keep trying to remember moments from the past when an acquaintance turned into a friend. With some people I have a clear memory of realizing this person is important. With other people we were kind of forced into it by circumstance or willed it to be until it was.

When I’m in new situations and not feeling like putting the effort into developing friendships, I rationalize by thinking about how I don’t need anyone else. I have a wonderful family who I am close to, people from high school and college, and, now, people from the “place where I used to live.” Sitting here, though, I realize how much I’ve gained from knowing my newest old friends. We are friends because of commonalities and interesting differences I don’t have with anyone else. They have personalities unlike other people I know; there is something they must offer to me that I can’t find elsewhere. I’m guessing there are probably others like them out there. I just have to sip my coffee and hope they don’t think I’m weird. 


today was a great day

March 8

I’m grateful today to have someone in my life who tries so hard to help me be happy. So much of life is schedule and responsibility and obligation. When we have the chance to be spontaneous it is surprising. Today we were so in the moment that 5 hours later I’m only now realizing what a unique experience it was. And as if the universe is feeling with me – Jack Johnson “Better Together” is suddenly playing on my Pandora.


This is probably the 5th blog I’ve started. It’s usually the same pattern. I search for the perfect title and theme, write that first post, then, the self-doubt starts. Who wants to read what I write? Why do I think anyone cares? There’s no chance I am interesting enough to create something like the sites I read.

I like to pretend that if I had unlimited time and money to do whatever I want I could be a writer. The truth is, I’ve never written anything and have no training or talent. I think about how easy it would be to be a full-time blogger or youtuber, but I actually have no good, original ideas for content. I like to say that I am a creative person, but the truth is I rarely create anything. Part of this is, honestly, because of my job – it sucks a lot of energy. Still, I think there is more inside of me and it needs an outlet. I saw a quote recently, maybe Neil Gaiman, unfortunately, I’m not sure, that said if you want to be a writer (or artist, musician, etc) just start doing it and for a while it will suck and you’ll know that it sucks, but eventually you’ll get better and it will stop sucking and then you’ll be what you set out to be.

This time is going to be different. I’m not going to care if anyone reads. I’m not going to worry about not having a clear purpose for what this blog is going to be. I’m going to do it and maybe it will be a personal journal or maybe recipes and DIY or maybe funny stuff I find on the internet or maybe even some writing. Whatever it is I hope it helps me learn more about myself.