Halfway here, balancing on one foot
I've come to realize that my mind is an overloaded place. I usually come to this realization at least three times a year, every year. There's a certain perspective I try to visualize it from, which I'll try to verbally explain here. I'm curious if anyone else sorts out how they think like I do. Picture singular thoughts; remember to take your medications, call your grandpa, reply to a text you forgot about, etc. Each individual starting thought sits on this proverbial bottom row, with intertwining strings and strands connecting them to others in an amalgamated chain. My mind often races through rows of thoughts, shooting up and down from one to another, each branching into its own tree of wonderings. It sounds all frilly and nonsensical, but it happens so fast that it feels more like a reflex. I don't remember a time when I wasn't so riddled with thought. It's a cumbersome weight to balance. Still, I felt a pull somewhere inside these soupy guts to write another post, but about what? I've devoted too much time to frustrating existentialism on DN lately, so I think a lighter fare might be in order this time around.
I puzzled and puzzled (until my puzzler was sore) before getting distracted by downloading photos from my digital camera. I'm objectively very bad at taking photos, but the blurry, half-prepared smiles from my friends that consume my screen could be hung in the Louvre. Down the back, but who cares—still the Louvre. God, I love my friends. Loving my friends has been my favourite hobby, passion project, and ruthless responsibility for as long as I can remember, even sometimes to my own detriment. I've grown up playing the loyal friend in about a dozen different fonts. Not every friend was a true one, and I'm sure I'll continue to learn that lesson with my unrelenting sleeved heart, but I hold my role as a friend as sacred. I don't hold any ill will towards friendships that have come and gone; no doubt I haven't been the picture of a perfect confidante either. I think I need to love all-in like I do, or I wouldn't be me anymore. It often hurts my heart, but it's a good reminder to sit with that feeling when the pain afflicts me. I feel so much in extremes that any slight moment of conflict sends a fleet of alarms in my brain. I envision every possible bad outcome happening at once until I'm suffocated and beaten pulpy. Too gross? I'm sorry, but it's the best way I can verbalize the sensation. In an attempt to do some inner self-work, I'm shedding the overanalysis (for now). I just wanna gush about my pals. I found it. It's summer! I'll write about my friends.
Tracadie Beach, far out just like the tide. Taken by me on my digicam :)
Summer is when friendship feels its most potent, in my opinion. There's an understood sense of undiluted silliness and sunshine; it tastes like wood-burnt air and citrus-salt. I, and I'm sorry to have to admit this publicly, have never liked the beach. Jagged rock edges and sand in any and every crevice of my body have never been my jam, ok? Although I've always adored the water. I was a pool kid downnnnnnn. Gimme a nose plug and goggles, stat! Given where I've grown up, it's hard to find people who feel similarly adverse toward sand in your toes. I will say I've embraced aspects of beach days—a (hopefully charged) speaker, a god-sent sandwich, the coldest beer this side of the galaxy (for about five minutes). Gibby, I hope you're proud of how far I've come! A little while ago, I had a dusk beach moment with Grace and Nolan, where we just talked about the stupidest internet lore and sipped on really nasty seltzers. This, however, if you didn't know, is the vibe, the moment, the best kinda time. It may seem simple and unplanned, and it is, and I loved every second of it. Seeing friends I haven't seen in a while, all reconvened in our hometown for a divot in time, will always be my favourite way to spend a sunset evening. That is, an evening with the most spectacular sunset ever seen before until I see the next one and feel it all over again. Infinite happiness glitch! Anyway, it always astounds me how little goes into a perfect day. Even the slightly unpleasant moments, like almost tripping over mossy rocks ten times and getting mud in my sandals, help make the good moments better. I can laugh about my misfortune with my friends, turning it into a net positive. At least, I think. I'm not good at that kinda thing.
Baba's Lounge, but I had a beer in one hand and couldn't get my camera to work, sooooooo here's the ceiling.
More recently, I went to a bar with Aly (!!!!), and it's the best feeling ever to write this sentence. Oh, bestest buddy, how I've missed you! We are two in the booth, we have our beers, the room is gay asf, life is a highway. I came to join Aly in watching the EP release show of Henry Ervetta's Love Bite. Btw, she's a lovely young musician, and I encourage you all to check out the EP! The track record of representation in the PEI music scene is... milquetoast. The same ten white guys form 90% of the booked bands at a handful of sports bars every weekend. They sing subparly of the hardships of growing up in a small town that's been built to uplift them over anyone else, and lazily strum the same muddy chords while being praised for their artistry. Has anyone else noticed how much pressure women in the music industry face to be astounding vocalists? The scrutiny is infinitely harsher than these scrawny motherfuckers who whine into mics about the breakup they caused for 45 minutes. It's rough out here, true, but I see a promising shift somewhere on the horizon. To spend an evening watching a women-led lineup, especially highlighting trans women, is a healing rush of blood to the brain. My relationship with queerness fundamentally impacts my friendships. The way I love my friends feels whole and unapologetic, just like the warmth I feel in queer spaces. I feel friendship in these spaces, even with strangers I'll probably never see again, because to feel seen is to feel cherished. In a shoebox bar, while the sun still sets and the regulars glance in intrigue, is where I've smiled the most in the last few weeks.
I often think about the friends I've lost or, rather, the friendships I've outgrown. I don't believe that they're true losses. How can I lose something I didn't own? Friendship is not a singular achievement; it's a commitment, a vow to care. Both sides of a friendship, like a romantic relationship, need to contribute to the maintenance of the hearth, or the flame goes out. I see friends who've been close since diapers and find fascination in their endurance. Very few of my friends are sandbox ones, and I used to think that was a testament to my failings as a friend. Now, I see it as proof that I was never at fault for trying. Some pieces just don't fit. Nothing is fully one-sided, and it's murky dissecting what went wrong or right along the throes of falling out. I take ownership of the mistakes I've made, but the blame I used to shove down my gullet has dissipated over time. I can smile now as tender memories of youth come across my mind every so often. Not everyone is meant to be a forever person, and that's ok. To all my former friends, hey bud, I hope you're doin alright these days.
Ok, I got a little melodramatic anyway. I've been watching too much Interview with the Vampire and can feel the Lestat de Lioncourt dramatics bubbling into my brain. Seriously though, phenomenal show, please watch it. The new season rules. ANYWAY! I just wanted to use this opportunity to uplift platonic love to its rightful place as one of the most important facets of life. As someone who's become quite adapted to being alone, romantic attachments and the woes that drag behind them are hard for me to sympathize with. I understand this makes me a bit unfair, but I've lost the desire to be fair. Some of y'all need to get a grip, with peace and love. Why would so many of us rather die than be single? And actually, while we're at it, why are people "single" simply because they lack a romantic partner? Being single implies being alone, and I've never felt alone when I'm with my friends. Sometimes I feel halfway here, halfway there, but I'd recognize the hands holding me upright any day.
Happy July, my dearest divas! I'd love to hear about your favourite memories with your friends. Please share!! Also, if you're part of the lifelong single folks club like me, I see you. Hug your pals extra hard until you remember how lucky you are to have them. That love matters and deserves to be nurtured.
Talk soon(er),
PJ