One Lonely Lame-ass

Dear Reid,

My best friend is graduating early. Now, she probably doesn’t think of herself as my best friend, and certainly she has many friends who she’s closer to than she is to me, but, well, I don’t. I’ve always been a bit of an introvert, and have never been able to handle having more than a few good friends at a time. I try to make a show at being outgoing or whatever—I go to parties and hang out occasionally with a lot of different people.

I tend to keep myself very busy, and whether this is cause or effect, I don’t find it easy to get close to people. There have only ever been a very few people in my life with whom I felt good enough to talk about anything. I don’t think that my friend really realizes just how much she means to me. I have tried to let her know a couple of times, though even then I had to do it in a kind of corny joking manner, like “Oh, what will I ever do without you?” or something. And she always replies with something like “Yeah, whatever. You’re not even going to know I’m gone.” But the thing is, I will know she’s gone, and I’m even starting to miss her already. How am I going to deal with being separated from my friend? And if this is so hard, what’s it going to be like when I graduate, and have to be separated from everyone else in Morris of whom I have become so fond?

Yours truly,
One Lonely Lame-ass

I know how you feel. It’s hard to watch a friend leave, but come on. I mean, jeez, how sappy can you get? Anyway, I think there are a few current events which will provide some insight into your situation.

I heard this song on KUMM the other day, on the venerable radio program “Unhindered By Talent,” and its lyrics went as such: “I started drinking. I started drinking Friday night. Well I woke up on Sunday, still ain’t nothing right. What good can drinking do? What good can drinking do? Well I drank all night, next day I feel so blue. Yes I drink I drink all night, next day I’m feeling so blue.”

Never has a song spoken to me so deeply. The songwriter has succeeded in capturing the essence of loss and depression. She sought comfort in a bottle, but the bottle had teeth. The next day, her drinking, which seemed such a comfort at the time, had her feeling nothing but blue. Has her turning to alcohol helped her in the long run? No, still ain’t nothing right.

Last week this girl told me she had been stood up by eight guys. Now, at first it may seem like she’s an extremely popular girl to have had eight dates to be stood up by, but everything isn’t as it seems. It gets even more interesting. These eight dates were not one at a time, but all on the same night. And half of them already had girlfriends or ex-girlfriends who were trying to get back together with them. When the girlfriends heard about the Super Date, they all ganged up on the girl, hurling accusations and threats of violence. Why can’t we all just get along? Still ain’t nothing right.

In a related incident, Bill Gates, victim of a ruthless pie-throwing conspiracy, testified in front of Congress this week. I caught a little of his questioning on C-SPAN. When asked a simple “yes” or “no” question about whether Microsoft was using monopoly power to prevent its business partners from advocating a rival product, this guy squirmed like a nightcrawler trying to get away from a fisherman’s hook. I thought he was going to fall out of his chair he was wiggling around so much; and his question dodging: superb! Maybe he had just wet his pants. Still ain’t nothing right.

Also on a related topic, the Olympics are over and the only event I watched was Ice Dancing. I don’t like Ice Dancing much. But I was in Alexandria for the weekend, and the only station we could get was the one playing Ice Dancing. So, I watched Ice Dancing, and one of the couples totally biffed. I laughed. But then, last weekend I was walking out of the Unisense concert—which by some freakish mistake of the normally infallible editorial staff of the UR was not mentioned in the paper—and I totally biffed. It kinda hurt, and now I have this big bruise on my leg. I don’t think biffing’s so funny anymore. Still ain’t nothing right.

So what’s the moral of this group of stories? Well, it’s probably got something to do with appreciating what you have while you have it, and when it’s gone, just deal with it. Carpe diem and all that jazz. But if you’re looking for some real words of wisdom, remember the old saying: “You can pick your friends, and you can pick your nose, but you can’t pick your friend’s nose, unless of course your friend asks you to.” Still ain’t nothing right.

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