Sentimental Slob

I admit it. I am a sentimental slob. I have always had a hard time letting go of things that were once pleasant, or loving or secure: relationships, situations, cars…

My worst vice in this department: hanging on to people. The hardest relationship lesson I ever had to learn was that some people move on even when others who care about them don’t. Sometimes people I cared about moved on and didn’t have the good grace to let me in on it, but that’s probably a different story.
Recently, I’ve had conversations that both confirmed my tendencies to remain attached and also revealed their folly, respectively. The first, on New Years’ Eve, was with my former roommate at LSMSA (http://www NULL.lsmsa NULL.edu), Margaret (http://blue-hurricane NULL.livejournal NULL.com/). We didn’t talk about this subject per se, but I had a great time with her, and it sort of reaffirmed my faith in myself, I guess. Which is what spending time with a friend should do! Margaret (http://blue-hurricane NULL.livejournal NULL.com) is really fabulously cool and intelligent. She’s working on an M.D. Ph.D. (almost done!) and all she really did was talk to me as an equal, if that makes sense. The holidays this year were kind of horrible for me. James (http://www NULL.ambardia NULL.com) was in New Orleans working on a tugboat because we were having a terrible time finding jobs. I would link to a previous article, but the hackers got that one! Anyrate, just having a decent, interesting conversation with someone who wasn’t hellbent on impressing or insulting me was a very healing thing. Monroe is sort of, um, deserty in the decent conversation department.

The second conversation I had a few weeks ago. It was with a person who shall remain nameless. We had had a falling out about the time I met my husband. This person seemed to want to resume our relationship, but they also seemed to think I was, well, deluded and stupid. In any case, I was not spoken to as an equal, by any means, which is sort of ironic, because um, well, just think about it. Pot, kettle, that sort of thing. A lot of people who know me know I am many things, but hopefully they know I am very self aware. Sometimes bordering on self-obsessed… but that’s a different story as well.

We color things with memory probably more than we should, but it’s the price we pay for being sentient. It’s good for creativity: one of the best things to do when you’re trying to start writing is to write about your first memory, or write about your childhood. I have learned that it’s important to let go when something is over, but I have also learned that I don’t want to let the good stuff go without a fight. I have had to let go of good friends as well as people who refused to realize that I had grown and changed in some way. Still, I tried to keep the good friends: I contacted them repeatedly and made overtures of friendship and desire for renewed contact if things had fallen off a bit due to distance. Some of them just chose to go away, and that’s cool, that’s their choice. What I’m going for here is simply to encourage you to go ahead and call your roommate from college you were so close to once, or your friend you said you would call back sometime last year but never got around to it. You have at least a fifty percent chance that they will be happy to hear from you.

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