Pleased to Know You

I've always hated starting off and finishing pieces with questions. More than likely, I have my seventh grade English teacher to thank for that, along with a few other select principles of the English language burned into my writing subconsciousness. If any of you had been watching me type out this piece, you'd know that there was about a ten-minute period of inactivity between the last sentence and this one. I've always felt that those temporary relapses into writer's block are the breaking points of any given article. Crazily enough, it feels incredibly like divine intervention forcing me to take a step back and evaluate what I've written thus far and where I'll be taking it. I suppose it should be disheartening that I'm already struggling for purpose after the second sentence, but I'll try not to let it get me down.

I've never considered myself a very outgoing person. By no means do I sit in front on my computer and brood all day, but you'll very rarely find me striking up conversations with random folks. With that said, sometimes a realization hits you that you just can't ignore. Looking at old pictures the other day, I noticed a friend of mine that I'd seen no more than two days prior. I'll let that sink in. I noticed them. I didn't just look, acknowledge, and turn the page on that person - I noticed them. Every so often, a situation very similar to that arises, a situation in which you finally see someone (albeit in a totally different light). Unfortunately, more often than not, such situations only force you to recognize that you really don't know that person at all. I have absolutely no idea if any of you loyal readers can relate to what I'm saying. Granted, I'm probably not epitomizing "clarity" here, but I'm trying. But, back to my scenario. A couple days before looking through old photos, I was talking with a few old friends. We had a jolly old time talking about the good old days. Old. I wonder at which point "old friend" became synonymous with "close friend". Even still, at which point did "close friend" become synonymous with understanding?

I hadn't really planned on turning this into a friendship-based post, but seeing as that I'm usually the last person to learn what I'm writing about, I'll just follow along. At some point in my life I defined friendship as the ability to accurately predict the actions and reactions of someone you know. Then, when I realized I wasn't really friends with Santa Claus, my opinions changed. In fact, they're still changing. No, not because I just recently stopped believing in Santa (which I haven't), but because I haven't found a definition of friendship that fits any experience I've had with it. It just is what it is, more or less. I don't necessarily need to understand friendship in order to know that I indeed have friends (believe it or not, I do have friends. Well, ok, friend). Nor do I need to understand Santa to know that somehow he slithers down my chimney, which doesn't have a fireplace, leaves presents, and eats my cookies all while my family sleeps. Like I said, it just is it what it is.

It's eerily unnerving, looking at a picture of someone you thought you knew very well and realizing that you had never taken to time to see them, let alone truly know them. For all intents and purposes, I might as well have been meeting that person for the first time. I can't quite decide if that's a testament to my (our) selfish inability to truly care for anyone other than myself, or a physical incapacity to do so. Perhaps that's what separates us from one another. As I said above, I'm not exactly the social butterfly other people might strive to be (I'm actually not any sort of butterfly, thank you very much), and while I have very few close friends to show for my lack of hard work, the ones I do have seemingly passed the test. Yes, knowing the way people tick, what they generally think about things, and having a shared ability to interact is important in the grand-scheme of friendship, but it makes little sense why things need to be framed within any grand scheme of anything. Apparently, grand schemes don't save me from being shocked to find that I can know someone for years and hardly ever see them for who they are. If friendship were as clear-cut as the three line definition in the dictionary would lead you to believe, then there's no reason to say I couldn't enjoy a triscuit with Santa while wedged inside the furnace.

I'm not entirely sure if I'll be looking through old albums any time soon, but I can take solace in the fact that I've learned something about myself: the fact that no matter what we've known about our friends, there's always something more to learn. Is that my bleeding-heart, weeping-in-your-latte moment for the week? It could be, although I'm not as emotionally wrecked as you may think. I am, however, rather comfortable with the fact that I've stumbled upon something we all might have already known but could never quite articulate. If this so happens to be the case, congratulations -

I'm Sean, pleased to know you.