On Feeling Alone

There are so many ways to have friends.

There’s the friend group. This is something I have never had, because I never settled. One, I’ve never thrived in a group social setting. Two, I love in-depth conversations with interesting people one-on-one. And three, I always wanted to curate a specific group of vastly diverse people, and that has never worked out.

Then there’s the way that AM manages his friends – widely disparate friends with whom he is very closely to and individually friends with. This is what I am close to. But at the same time, I don’t have the confidence or the magnetic personality to be able to have a bustling social life this way and not feel alone.

And thus, after a wonderful spring break vacation with a small group of people whom I got to know very well and very much enjoy their company – I still feel alone. I feel dissatisfied.

I am not their number one friend. I am not their priority. I am no one’s priority. And that is a very lonely feeling to have.


Field Notes from a Jewish Birthday Party

CaseworkerDoesn’t get attached to her cases because she knows she wouldn’t last

Do what you can to make one family’s life better in that moment, and then move on to the next

Hard to feel sympathy for the parents – again, won’t last

Learned from the kids

Loves it

Burns out







3/28/16, 7:03pm, notes from iPhone

Me and philosophical talks: the more I see of other families, the more I realize that I was raised in a very non-intellectual environment. Both my parents are very concrete people, and very emotional people in that there are no theoretical debates – no debates at all, actually – only arguments. No one talked unless it was necessary for day-to-day life.
And I think that’s the main reason why I feel inept during these abstract discussions – I didn’t grow up with it. Granted, I am also a very concrete person. But I also did not come equipped with these particular skills.
On a more personal level, I realize I have an aversion to being wrong. Not an aversion to seeming stupid in the moment – I never hesitate to ask questions – but I don’t want to be able to be attacked. So I avoid having opinions. This was always conscious, but I don’t think I ever realized why. I’ve been thinking more often, though, that I should purposely be unafraid to be wrong in the future. I always had an aversion to be criticized. Kind of like, when any scholar from another time is read in modern times, their ideas seem simplistic and uninformed – I never wanted to be that scholar. I realize now that it’s important to have an opinion (my previous mode basically lead to me not even thinking about the questions), despite the fact that I know my ideas are limited and will grow more and more obsolete as time passes. Furthermore, I have an obligation to do so because it is by nailing down ideas that allows for others to either build off of or debunk those very ideas. It is necessary for me to allow others to prove me wrong.

And I guess that’s the meta philosophical post of this trip.

Songs and Feeling Wisps

I go through intense phases of song obsessions, which is absolutely obnoxious for every around me, but has the interesting side effect of generating intense feelings of certain memories or vibes from the period in my life in which I was obsessed.

I thought it’d be interesting to chronicle.

Bitter Water, by the Oh Hellos: beginning of first semester of college, JKm mostly

Take Me There, by Pentatonix: beginning of freshman year of college

Hold Each Other, by A Great Big World: AYl, mostly.

Big Black Car: Again, AYl.

Growing Up, Macklemore: AYl, summer before freshman year, driving in a car alone

I’ll Live: AYl, summer before freshman year

Post to Be, Omarion: SS and CI, tequila and almond milk, clubs

Four Five Seconds, Rihanna: Driving in a car to chamber music festival, sun in the Black Honda

The Sifters, by Andrew Bird: somewhat reflective, end of senior year in high school, waiting for my life back home to end

Honey, I’m Good, Train: Deciding between colleges – you know the last two


Rolling in the Deep, by Adele: traveling to Paris

It Girl, Jason Derulo: middle school – oh god.

Here In Yours Arms, Hellogoodbye: KS


Fucking like my picture please

Changing my Facebook profile picture entails

the Google search “how to change a profile picture”

hours of deciding between variations of barely different crops of the same picture

heart palpitations

dropping things on the floor

an inability focus on work

leaving the Facebook tab open and internally thanking each like as they come in

Clearly my social anxiety is not gone