Thursday, February 4, 2010

I hate making mistake. I'm a fucking perfectionist about certain things in life, like my job. I have made a bunch of mistakes recently- none that will get me canned or anything, but things that add up. Most are relatively minor and easily corrected- a few have been bigger, and more difficult to correct. I have gotten better at not taking these things personally, but still, I really despise fucking up.
For years, I have partially defined myself by what I do. In college, I was a student and a techie. For a brief time I was able to be a person, social, and get out there. Then I was a grad student and worker, and now I'm a professional. When I make a mistake, sometimes I feel like it cuts to the core. This also happens in my Magic writing, but I have gotten better about letting that stuff slide off my back.
I guess part of this stems from how fucking hard it is to define yourself in this day an age. Yes, identity is as fleeting as it is firm- you are only what you claim to be if you put forth the effort. I have a lot of experience trying to define myself for dating websites and job applications, but what do I say?
I'm Jewish?
I'm passionate?
I listen to punk rock?
I'm fucking awesome?
That's part of the reason I have this blog- to try and figure out what I am. I am a self proclaimed nerd, but even that doesn't say everything about me. In this world where we're all just trying to find a connection, I think we a re best defined by our roles in our relationships with others. This is one of the reasons why I miss living in Brooklyn- it was easy for me to go out and find the comfort zones of identity. Here, I have to brave new ground and do it all over again. It's fin, but tiring. After a day of work, I don't always have the energy to go out to the bar and be a social person. I made it out today and had a Heineken Light, at the behest and suggestion of my sister (a smart one).
Thursdays are not the best days at my local watering hole, especially to meet people.

Monday, February 1, 2010

Friday night was unremarkable. Like so many others, I was working, although this time my stomach was rather upset. I had to sneak off to the secret bathroom in the Castle a few times to make use of the hidden toilet-no lights in this place- like a scene from a bad Jason movie.
Anyway, it is a night like so many others- watching the clock, counting down the minutes until I get to go home.
And then my Junior year roommate walks in.
I had not spoken to this man in nearly five years- we parted on less than amicable terms. We were both arrogant kids at the time, only he had a girlfriend and would frequently fight with her loudly and with consequences. He once put his head into my wall, leaving a dent. I was no prince either, being rather loud about my distaste for him.
It was like the odd couple, only with two short people angry at each other.
So he's there, and we have the awkward hello. I can only imagine what's going through his head, since he's there as a guest of a first year student.
I don't see him the rest of the night, but find a facebook message from him today. None of this sits right with me. I mean, I am all for making amends, but that's not what irks me.
I think I'm jealous of the man.
I work at a place where the people I come into contact with the most, the students, are off limits socially (as they should be- I am not complaining about this at all). But not to him...someone my own age. He's free to date whomever he pleases. That rubs me the wrong way a little.
But at the same time, what scares me is I know the developmental cycle for most traditional aged college students, and, well, it feels just off. 25 and 18 does not seem like such a huge difference, but one person is just starting college, and the other has been out for nearly three years.
I dunno; maybe it's just jealously.