Monday, April 19, 2010
A few weeks ago a dear friend of mine learned that one of his in Long Island was recently rendered homeless and is, in her own words, starving. I suppose I should elaborate and say that these two have never met in person; they happened across one another on Omegle and liked each other enough to stay in touch. This was the first time in some time he had heard from his Omegle Princess and in the moment he was afraid he would never hear from her again. To remedy the problem I proposed we each get dressed, meet outside somewhere, steal a car and drive to New York. Don’t pack anything, don’t tell anyone we’re going, just go. Ditch the car in Manhattan before spending a day to just walk around and absorb the sights. Get some coffee in Greenwich Village, then con our way into a hostel for the short term. Get jobs waiting tables at a hole-in-the-wall restaurant paying just enough for food and to help with rent while we live with my art school friend on the West Side. And eventually we’ll have saved up enough money to take the three of us–myself, my friend, and his Omegle Princess–to see the Phantom of the Opera sequel on Broadway.
Now, despite the romantic nature of casting off everything and running to New York, we actually stayed here in Athens to tend to our various dry responsibilities that, at the time, neither of us really liked. Even in Athens, the bastion of knowledge and drugs that I so glorify, I find myself getting so tired of the daily affairs of life. Lately it’s really gotten me down how routine and ordinary my life has become. Wake up, trudge to class, go to lunch, trudge back to class, come back to my dorm, dick around online, maybe go get high, come back, sleep. When weed becomes boring, you know you have a problem. I’ve always had my contentions with the clich but I had never noticed it to such an extent in my own life as I have this past week.
Part of the reason I feel so pulled towards people and places I’ve never seen in person, I think, is because they still have that element of mystery to them. Face-to-face communication is immensely different than anything the internet (or even the telephone) has to offer and without knowing each other in person there’s still a shadowed perspective to the relationship. And this isn’t to harsh on my friends in Athens or Rockville; (most of) those people are just as cool. Being part of a culture that still very much looks down on making friends through the internet it’s a strange feeling when I find myself more attracted to some multiethnic mutt in North Carolina or a fiery ginger in Texas than the Ohioan I
am was supposedly dating. Every time we talk I wonder how much different we would be together if they lived just down the street instead of millions of miles away.
In the grand scheme of things I am happy here, really I am. Athens is a wonderful little city and I know some great people here. I joke around and tell people I’m living a mid-life crisis at 19, but when a significant part of me wants to go be a bohemian New Yorker sometimes I wonder how much I’m actually joking. With one exception my classes range from fairly dull to suicidally inane, I have little to challenge me mentally, and I don’t know anymore whether it’s more impossible to find a (sane) boyfriend or a job in this pissant pseudoliberal backwater. However, my artsy nerve seems to be attempting a comeback, several of my friends will soon be done with their extracurriculars that have so far kept them out of my life this spring, and in the course of a breakup I found out I am a master troll (that’s what the asshole gets for stealing my zippo). Through all of this tumult though there is a solid foundation, a something to fall back on if need be. Thanks for oddly being one of the more stable aspects of my life, internet people.