Old Friends
I’m going to wax philosophical for a second. There is only one thing I hate about life, and that is meeting new people. Before you get all excited and call me antisocial, hear me out.
Everyone likes to take the easy road. Well, maybe not everyone, but for the majority of people, wouldn’t you think folks would prefer to just sort of glide along? Not that we don’t have ambitions, just that the ambitions wouldn’t take a lot to accomplish. I would love to be fluent in Portuguese, but I’d prefer it not take years to happen. Let’s switch gears to more morbid things. If you could live your life without experiencing the deaths of others, wouldn’t you prefer that? Death is a part of life that we all have to deal with, and people deal with it every day, but I’m sure most of us would rather not have to.
That kind of sets the background for a thought I had the other day. it’s a recurring thought that pops up from time to time. I suppose I could change my original statement to be something like “I hate meeting new people, getting close to them, and then leaving them.”
I was driving home from work one day last week and started thinking about some friends I made in college. When I first started, it didn’t take long to find a group I gelled with. There were only about 6 or 7 of us, but I would say we were pretty tight all the way through OCC, and even stayed connected for a little while after that. I am still to this day indebted to one of them for allowing me to live with him in Buffalo while I worked at an internship he got me for three months. When I moved back to Richmond, I managed to get in touch with another one, but we have since lost touch again.
I’m a very social person, and I love having a few close friends. I don’t like leaving those friends. I am finding myself in a similar situation at work. There are a few of us that, were we in college or without families, would probably hang out constantly. A few have already left the company. I really would prefer to spend the rest of my professional life working with these people. But I know that probably won’t happen, and it makes me a little sad to think about.
My friends mean a lot to me. I don’t want to keep having to make new friends and then one day having to leave those friends. Fortunately the internet is an amazing way to keep in touch, but even then you can lose it. In case any of you has happened across this, Mike, Greg, Marie, Jon, Shelly, or Jeremy, I still think about y’all from time to time, and I miss you.
-j
My Halloween Costume
It’s about that time again. The one day a year when people can dress like morons and not get in trouble or be made fun of. Last year I got some fang tips and latex ears and made a convincing werewolf, minus the bad facial hair. Some of the kids who came to my house asked me if the ears were real. 
I didn’t know whether I should be offended or feel complimented. As you can’t really tell from the picture, I was also wearing my high school jacket. Without the shaggy beard, it’s hard to tell that I was going for Teen Wolf, a la Michael J. Fox (one of the best bad movies ever). I can also tell you from that experience that denture cream tastes really, really gross.
I considered doing this again this year, but I was going to kick it up a notch. Last year I bought a bald cap and some fake hair that I was going to form into a hairy face that I could glue on. I also got better tips because they don’t need denture cream, and everything was half off after October 31. However, I don’t think I want to do the werewolf thing again. Even though if I had to be a monster, I would like to be a werewolf. I’ve never figured out why, but they’ve always been my favorite.
This year I had a different, possibly better idea. It could either be really great or really bad. While I have a think for werewolves, I have an even greater affinity for Superman. But they don’t really make Supes costumes for large men. So I thought it would be funny to get one anyway. I’d answer the door in a too-small-for-me Superman outfit, shaggy hair, unshaven face, with a cigarette in one hand and a cheap beer in the other. I would be washed up Superman. The image of this is hilarious to me. Obviously I would look like crap. I also realize that I probably won’t do this because it would border on embarassing. The kids would never come to my house again. But like I said before, that’s the one day people can (are almost expected to) dress like morons and get away with it.
-j