is the word 'diary' better than the word 'blog'? probably not.
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Perfectibility.
I hope you�ll go out and buy a copy of the January issue of The Believer, or maybe even become a subscriber, because it�s a good magazine and independent magazine publishing is a tough industry� but in any case here�s a link to the on-line version of the interview with Tom Dumm I did, that appears in the current issue.
My friend Liz recently wrote a nice and nostalgic blog entry about what�s lost when you stop having time to do �nothing� with your friends. I feel the same hole in my heart.
Related to that� yesterday morning, in bed with my first slight-hangover of the year 2009, I had one of those clarifying thoughts that arrive only when you approach them obliquely. It�s like they�re the content of one of those campy paintings that look like a forest head-on but harbor a horse or a serious-faced native american when you allow your peripheral vision to rest on them. (heh.) It's this: I�ve been feeling bad about my west coast friendships lately. Not because they�re bad or anything. They're lovely and important. But I miss them. I had thought that I missed them because I live in New York, no duh, and thus I am always missing out on being a full-time member of the lives of my VIPs. But that is not really what it is, or at least that�s not the full content of the picture.
It�s not only distance that troubles me. It�s aging. And not just the fact of getting old. It�s more that meetings are more and more difficult to schedule. It takes a whole lot of patience, calisthenics, trying and trying again, disappointment and then remounting the horse, just to get more than two people to the same restaurant at the same time. This is true even when I�m in town only for a short time and you�d think people would want to see me. They do. But it's different. There's no urgency about it. Or perhaps it is more apt to say that there is no ease about it. It can't just happen. It has to be negotiated. That is something new. I hadn't put my finger on the source of a sad gut-feeling I've been getting until Liz made her own observations about a similar feeling.
It�s no one�s fault. But it�s also everyone�s fault. Our lives are more complicated than they once were. But we�re also lazier, less excited about things.
We all used to have time to give to each other to do nothing. Brunch and then hours of wandering around. Lying on a couch watching television for no reason. Heidi and I used to say we didn�t want to be friends with people who couldn�t �lounge.� Evany and I used to watch the WORST television shows and movies together, joyously, for hours. Liz and I used to spend hours looking at crap in thrift shops. Caroleen and I used to go to every dumbass movie we could find. Together. Time! And I mean time to give to each other, because it is a gift. You take it for granted when you�re younger and have the time and will to do it (because it isn�t only time. It�s also WILL to do it). And then, as we age and our lives get more complicated, we are more stingy with our gift-giving. We are tired, want to sleep, have to catch up on work, clean the house, or blindly stare at the television as a form of recovery from the roughness of a day. I think of myself as always trying to make the most of the time I have with my friends, but it�s also true that I have done all of the above-listed things and more instead of seeing friends on many occasions. I am not even saying that the excuses aren�t valid. Sometimes I feel like I will lose my mind if I don�t finally clean the house or sit quietly at home for a few hours.
It�s inevitable that things change, perspectives and priorities rearrange, and so on. But I still have a kind of Rousseau-ish faith in human perfectibility, that, against the backdrop of a life full of truths and pressures that you can�t really be rid of, you are free to choose your values and make them work. For people in their 40s the days of brunch and wandering will be fewer and far-between, sure. But all it takes to let that part of your life continue living is the will to let it happen sometimes. Let it happen, and don't let the first words of response to an invitation be a catalog of all the reasons why letting it happen is difficult. (Save that for later, with some cake or homefries or booze. It will help.) All it takes to let that part of your life continue living is the will to let it happen sometimes.
However. Here is where we meet one real limit to the human capacity to choose values and make them work. You can�t do it alone. If no one meets you for brunch, and no one takes the time to wander, your best laid plans all go to shit.
Well, thing is, you can do brunch-and-wandering alone, but it misses the point. I spent many lonely years in San Francisco in the early 1990s "between" groups of friends. Halliday moved away, Heidi was in New York, Marilyn was extended-stay traveling, Liz and I weren�t talking for a couple of years (we were stubborn!). It was bleak. So I used to have brunch by myself and then I�d wander, every Saturday. I�d go to a restaurant in the Haight, get an omelette, then walk to over to the Mission with a book and a journal, look at some shops, find a caf�, and read and write. I started h2so4 because of my loneliness, not my intense creative drive. I fill holes with projects. It was a way of coping with the conditions in which I was living at the time.
So. The days of brunch and wandering. When we were younger it felt like no effort was involved. And we had fewer responsibilities. Those days are gone. But as anyone who struggled to find her way to Beretta for a nice dinner with me last week would tell you, it�s worth it to make the extra effort sometimes, just to keep that part of your life alive. Because, at least for me, that part of my life is actually more rewarding than some of the other parts, the ones about which �choice� is less of a factor.
Someone once suggested to me that my continuing enthusiasm for nights out and getting dressed up and being with people was a failure to grow up. As if enthusiasm meant immaturity. I would counter that suggestion with the assertion that enthusiasm means life, and maturity does not have to be a slow slide into death. No it does not.
When I read blog posts from Liz or Evany about things that happen in San Francisco while I�m in New York, I get this complicated double-pull feeling. On the one hand I feel happy that I can read about these things. It makes me feel as if I am still tied to what happens here because I can read about it�I'm not missing out entirely�and of course it helps that Liz and Evany are both good, creative and entertaining writers. But the inevitable other hand punches me in the gut for not being here. It is a loss.
Of course, I don�t feel better that I now realize that the loss isn�t imposed only by distance, that I would still feel it in some measure even if I lived here. But it does help me think about what it is I miss. It isn�t just San Francisco, and my people here. It�s the time we used to give to each other.
We still make it happen sometimes. I�ve had a night out at a restaurant, a couple of lovely parties, a museum trip, a late-night airport pick-up, some great one-on-one lunches and dinners, and just yesterday an awesome day of lounging around at Caroleen�s, eating and talking and laughing. It�s pretty great.
I have no real conclusion to draw here, other than the New Year�s Resolution-y reminder that we would all be well-served by prompting ourselves to think about the value of the time we give to others, and stop subordinating it to things that matter to us less. That's all. Good luck.
Finally, here's a brilliant article Heidi once wrote about how to make a successful set of New Year's resolutions. Check it out.
4:09 p.m. - January 02, 2009
bunny - 2009-01-03 13:30:55
i heart you, jill stauffer.
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big m - 2009-01-03 16:33:23
I've been thinking about this a lot this fall... and more so since Liz posted her ideas on the subject. Thanks for the post, Jill. I believe it's worth clearing time for just being together, no matter how difficult it gets. Also, I heart you, too.
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s - 2009-01-03 22:41:55
"Someone once suggested to me that my continuing enthusiasm for nights out and getting dressed up and being with people was a failure to grow up. As if enthusiasm meant immaturity. I would counter that suggestion with the assertion that enthusiasm means life, and maturity does not have to be a slow slide into death. No it does not."
thank you, jill.
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Angela - 2009-01-04 06:40:17
Making new friends is also becoming harder. Random acquaintances occur, but finding new people with time to develop lasting friendships is not as easy as it once was. I understand how someone could think "why add another distraction to an already busy life?" but I find it sad to think I may not make any more friends comparable to the ones I have now.
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js - 2009-01-04 18:47:40
yeah, Angela, that's what I learned when I tried to start to build a life in Amherst, Mass, and then again in Haverford, PA. I tried to start friendship rituals like TV Night or Weekend Movie or Weekday Dinner, and no one would commit. It's sad. It's understandable on some level. But on other levels, not so much. I believe wholeheartedly that everyone I invited would have really enjoyed such a practice, had they taken/given the time.
PS: I am not saying that I did not have lots of good times with my friends in Amherst and Haverford!
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