Tuesday 11 January 2011

The life store.

I’m reading a book at the moment, called ‘Bed’ by Tao Lin. One of the chapters entitled ‘Suburban Teenage Wasteland Blues’ tells of a character who suffers from social anxiety. He considers to himself when a girl he likes invites him bowling,

‘…was this how you went about getting a life? You went bowling, some things happened, and then, finally, you were awarded a life? [ ] People were always talking about getting a life, as if it were a store and it was just a matter of going there, picking one out. It annoyed Greg. Though in his sleepier moments, he believed in this store, understood that it was somewhere in Europe somewhere, or else deep in Russia. One of those two places. He’d sometimes wake up sad because the store was so far away. Why did it have to be so far away?’

I'm going to keep reading. Perhaps Greg will eventually find that store and tell me how to get there.

Sunday 9 January 2011

Saturday night

*names have been changed.

Hmm…what can I say about Saturday night out with my first ‘friend from the internet’? Firstly, it’s always difficult to gain a realistic impression of a person online. Secondly, I set my expectations low knowing that:

A. The guy did not have many interests in common with mine.
B. His English (Eastern European) was not great which meant conversations would be limited and slow.
C. He suggested we meet up in Piccadilly Circus, which initially I thought was a good idea as it’s a busy area. My gut instincts also told me that we would end up in some tourist dive that would have me brainstorming excuses to leave.
D. He was super keen on meeting and I, was still tired from having a great Friday night out as I'd already mentioned, with a friend (and his friends) I met back in September last year.

The evening could have been a disaster because he fulfilled A and B of my expectations within moments of meeting. He was friendly –probably nervous, as he seemed to be laughing after every sentence said. We looked at the map on his phone to find the place he’d suggested where a bunch of strangers from a London ‘meetup group’ were also attempting to make ‘friends’. When we eventually arrived, we found a group of people of varying shapes, sizes and ethnicities in an OTT bar exuberantly embellished with crystal chandeliers and other sparkly things –appropriately (and cringeworthyly) named ‘Jewel bar’. I wanted to run back out onto the busy street –particularly after receiving a text from my friend from the night before informing me that they were having drinks at the same place again if I wanted to join. Yes, I wanted to join. I looked around –defeated by the sight of a stranger extending his hand to introduce himself to me and decided to pick up my poor attitude, remind myself of my recent struggles to meet people and give the night a go. My internet friend (let’s call him EE) and I sat down after purchasing drinks and proceeded to make some unsuccessful conversation. At which point I suggested we talk to other people in the group.

My relief came when I met *James and *Amy whom, by the end of the night (my night anyway) had given me their contacts and made arrangements to meet up again. I’d somehow managed to loose and avoid EE (who had been following me like a lost puppy to the point where everyone thought we were together) –I felt terrible but also increasingly uncomfortable at the thought that he may have expected something more than just a friendship on our first meeting. I suspected this because he tried to grab hold of my hand partway through the night, which I found to be completely inappropriate (perhaps a cultural misunderstanding?) and made my decision to call it a night.

While saying my goodbyes to the others, EE had spotted me, as though from a mile away, grabbing my coat when I watched him from the corner of my eye, nudging people aside mid-sentence to make an urgent beeline towards me and proceeded to beg me to stay.

‘It’s only 11. Why? Why you leave? You sleep tomorrow okay? You promised me you stay (I did no such thing!). You go to the station? I go too! You stay with me half hour and I come with you. Please? Thirty minutes. Pleeeasse?’

After countless ‘Nos’, my frustrations grew at his clinginess and the fact that it did not seem to occur to him that we had only met briefly that night and I was NOT immediately ready to be his best friend, weekend bar crawl side-kick, girlfriend or whatever other deluded arrangement he had made up in his head about us. It was all a bit weird. I left, disappointed that my first potential friend-from-the-net had been a let down (an oddball) but thankful to at least have met some genuine people whom I hoped to keep in touch with.

The next morning, I received a text from EE. ‘How are you feeling? What are you doing today?’. I panicked; barely half awake and choosing to ignore it after texting James (from the meetup) who had advised that I tell him I was busy and hopefully he’ll 'get the message’. Later, I received another text from EE in the evening asking if I wanted to meet him for a drink in Camden. I replied saying I was busy. Then, I find an email from him yesterday asking what I’m doing next weekend. Have I led him to believe that I’m interested in continuing contact? Well, I did say to him we’ll meet up again later amidst fleeing from the bar. Afterall, how do you tell someone you’d just met that you don’t want to be friends with them? Come on, don't look at me like that! We can't expect to all click with every person we meet. Making friends in a pool of strangers is a gamble.

Unfortunately this first experience has kinda put me off meeting other people I’d made contact with online.

:-/

Saturday 8 January 2011

Tonight, I am embarking on my first meet up with a potential friend whom I made contact with on this virtual pool we call the internet. At the moment, I'm not particularly looking forward to it as I had a late night drinking with a friend I made back in September last year. Let's see what happens.

Friday 7 January 2011

Who needs friends?

I came across a newspaper article this week reporting that a woman had committed suicide after posting a message on Facebook informing her 1000 ‘friends’ that she had taken her pills and ‘would be dead soon bye bye everyone.’ Apparently, some of her friends had mocked her, even calling her a liar. Not a single person out of the 1000 friends on her account reported the message.

I cannot imagine, yet comprehend how anyone who was suppose to be her friend could have allowed this to happen. I have 156 friends on my Facebook account. I hope that at least one of them is looking out for me…

Wednesday 5 January 2011

Barcelona and back (with some self reflection inbetween).

Well, what a relief.

After raising my frustrations to boiling point, I realised that a trip out of London was just what I needed to remedy my feelings of melancholy. A few days of catching up with a good friend (my best friend when he was living in London), some sunshine and chats with visitors from Italy and housemates from Germany stamped out my plaguing worries of the past week. It became clearer to me, that those worries and feelings of despair were stemmed from my current environment -that I need a change. My friend's reaction to this sudden epiphany was 'it's going to be the same wherever you go -not knowing anyone and having to start things all over again.'
I disagreed -I've been here for almost four years but I feel as though I have nothing good to say about this experience. I hate almost everything about this city -the things I do enjoy, just do not seem to outweigh the things I loathe. Of course, there were moments of fun and laughter. I've learnt much about my ability to survive in new environments. But this is a chapter I feel is coming to a close, and though I'm willing to give my best to make this year the best year of my life in London -I know there is something better out there in the rest of the world.

A colleague of mine said to me today, 'London can be a lonely and depressing place. But it has it's advantages if you can see past its limitations. It allows you the freedom to be independent and self contained -to do whatever it is you want to do without needing to be tied down or dictated by relationships. Accept this and things will be easier.'

And just like that, I felt my sense of hope...grow.

Saturday 1 January 2011

The anticlimax.

I probably hate New Years Eve as much as I hate Christmas. The onset of my anxiety this time of the year started shortly after I left Oz to come to London. I think it has largely to do with the huge pressure to organise something spectacular to end the year on. Discussions of 'what your plans are for New Years' boast resemblance to a spitting contest. How far can you go? Snog someone? Get laid? Vomit on the way home. Vomit before midnight? Snog someone, get laid, vomit before midnight and on the way home? My version of New Years was as exciting as watching grass grow. And as I did not have any plans even though I made an effort to ask around and hint my lack of plans to some 'friends' in hope that I would be included in theirs, I practically had to gatecrash a party of friends of friends just to feel that I wasn't going to miss out on a night of universal celebration that we have survived another year in our lives.

As my instincts predicted, I should've just stayed home. After the awkward dinner with my sister, forced conversation, sad attempt to find a place to view the fireworks (less than 5 minutes of which we caught thanks to two buildings we failed to see were in the way) and a short argument at 12.15am about where the tube station is, I somehow thought dragging my sorry self to a house party of people I didn't know would make my night any better.

It didn't. There are two types of groups of people one can encounter when invited to a party of a friend of a friend: the welcoming group: the type who make you feel like you're their life long best friend. And there's the unwelcoming group: the type who make you feel like you're some sort of contracted foot fungus they're trying to scratch off. Except one girl, who was so intoxicated she mistook me for another girl who was already at the party, who she thought she'd lost. She also claimed she lost her fingers. Then found them. She was nice.

I left. After an hour of trying to make conversation with people who insisted on giving me one line replies.

Though 2010 ended sourly, hopefully my trip to Barcelona will shed a positive light to 2011.

Stay tuned.

Thursday 30 December 2010

As the New Year slowly and painfully approaches, it has dawned on me that the worse thing about this time of the year is not just being dumped by the guy I thought was 'the one' but not having all my family around for Christmas nor having a network of friends -shoulders to cry on, to make New Years Eve plans with, to drink, go out, be merry and all that other stuff that I keep hearing people talk about in the Underground.
The irony is, I left my friends (whom I've come to cherish dearly) back home in Sydney in the hope that adventures and a change of career in another country will lead to making new friends -ones I can relate to, who enjoy the same interests, who will be there for me no matter what. And I guess for a number of reasons, that hasn't happened. They've either moved on abroad, gotten hitched, prefer other social circles, have other commitments.
It's become quite sad that the only people who see me on a weekly basis other than my work colleagues are the guys at the local Blockbuster and my older sister, whom I live with.
And I hear you asking, 'Have you tried joining an interest group to meet people?'
Yes. Language course, sports team, gym, talking to people in the elevator of our apartment building...
Perhaps, I haven't tried hard enough? Agreed.
Okay, so 2011 is going to see me put myself out -to make as many friends as I can, in whatever way it takes...and see them regularly -in a sense, to get myself a friggin life.

If you're out there, somewhere in London and you're reading this, would you...be my friend?