Check that. I'm glad people are being nice to me. But it came way too suddenly. Like one day everybody was riffing on me and mocking me like I prefer, then the next day a switch flipped and now people like me. I mean, they always liked me. But now it's as if I just got some kind of life-changing diagnosis and everyone is making their peace with it.
I know using just in this sense is hypocritical coming from me. I teared up watching To Kill a Mockingbird last night. I'm a very emotional guy. But even I am sick of the nostalgia at this point.
I feel so loved. I feel so very #blessed to have built the relationships I did in college and to have as many people eulogizing me as I have had. And I don't want to make it seem like it's a big number. It's probably still in single digits and if it isn't it barely peeked over. But the fact remains that I have an entirely-too-big contingent of people in my life treating my like I'm about to get on that ship with Frodo and never be seen again.
This sounds like a #humblebrag. Maybe it is. I don't know. I just know that right now I'm sitting at my desk at The Red & Black. Well, it's not my desk anymore. It's my successor's desk. But I had to come by to retrieve a few possessions. And now I can't bring myself to leave. So I'm typing this ramble while listening to my Spotify playlist entitled "2015" and trying to tell myself that nothing is a big deal.
The sad truth is, I don't worry like I used to. I used to be the most paranoid person on the planet. My parents joked with me when I was growing up that I was going to be the youngest person ever to have a heart attack. And that just made me even more nervous. I was a ball of emotion and stress. My poker face was so bad that other people failed lie detector tests because they had been near me too recently. But when I got to college something changed. I became a lot more comfortable. I subscribed to the theory that everything will be alright in the end. I carried that very mantra in my wallet for more than a year.
At first, though, I resisted the change. I wanted things to be as they were when I was a kid. I wanted to be the anxious knot of sarcasm and dried sweat that I had been growing up and that got me as far in life as it did. Eventually, however, I came to accept my new, less deranged, outlook on life. And I think a big reason that this happened was the people with whom I chose to align myself.
Which is why I can't leave this desk that no longer belongs to me. Because as much as I say I'm sick of people eulogizing me, I know that they're kind of right. I don't know if it's modesty or if it's false modesty or if it's just denial, but I've had a hard time acknowledging that I've changed people and that people have changed me.
Now I can't seem to make up my mind. I want to defer to my earlier claim. I want to defer to the thought that I don't care about graduating and people need to calm down. But now I think I'm swaying myself the other way. Now I just want to get in a big circle with all my college friends and sing kumbaya until my least-touchy-feely friends get so uncomfortable and have to leave.
Geez I'm a friggin' contradiction.
What was even the point of this? I certainly don't know. If you know, let me know in the comments.
Sorry if this post wasted your time. This is what I think about in December, apparently. This is a weird series of posts.