Setting: my desk at schoolio
Song: Oh Comely, Neutral Milk Hotel
Since the last week and a half of Christmas break I have been in a very nostalgic mood. I think being around my best friends less than my school friends really makes me appreciate the people that are in my life. I took an undocumented oath to myself around the middle of junior year that I would only surround myself with good, wholesome people. Granted, who purposely makes friends with bad people? Crazy enough, people do it and then they wonder why they are unhappy in life. At Marquette I've found a good group of people who care for thing other than getting wasted on weekends. In fact, we rarely get wasted. We'll drink, we'll get drunk but I haven't had one of my infamous black out nights since I've been here. [Thank God] And when I try to explain these black outs to my friends here they cannot even comprehend me acting in such a way. Which is great.
What is different about my best friends and my new friends does not lie in our behavior. Both groups are fun-loving but not over the top. Both are caring and genuine people. The difference is history. When I tell a crazy story to my school friends about home or my best friends, I am forced to tell three other stories to explain why something happens or doesn't happen. With my best friends, there never needs to be a background story. They have lived the background story. They are the background story. We are each other's history, and that is something that our new friends will never be able to comprehend. They know because they have their own best friends, but I feel like it is something that they will never be able to grasp. It's this realization that makes me nostalgic. How can I not be with such great people in my life that are not a couple blocks away from me anymore? As sentimental as I have been, I am very glad that we all chose our own colleges based on our own personalities and needs. Although not everyone is happy where they are, it makes it that much better to go home. It makes me appreciate the real love I have for my best friends.
What has been interesting here is, because people don't know my history, they do not fully understand me. Like I am a mystery to them. It took three months for the guys I hang out with to know that I play basketball. No one knows the music I listen to. My clothes don't exactly makes sense to them. A new friend named Martin is from Ohio. I just started spending some time with him because of a great friend named Stephanie. I was wearing my proud 'Southside til I die' sweatshirt when he called me "Scrappy". The day before he, let me remind you he is from Ohio, made the mistake of telling me that Wrigley is in a better location. Sweet Martin. Just because you don't have any memories in Bridgeport at the lovely Comiskey Park, does not mean you can tell me something like this. So yesterday he gives me three reasons as to why I am scrappy "a. her father owns hockey season tickets b. she is wearing a David Bowie t-shirt c. she is a White Sox fan'. Alright Martin, I'll take it. I actually enjoy his three reasons. Little does he know that he still has a lot to learn about me. But he's on his way.
So, is this how everyone feels? I hope so. That makes everyone lucky to have great people in their lives. Finally, when do our school friends become best friends? I am looking forward to this moment. One can never have too many best friends.
I decided the title of each post will be the last song I listen to while writing.
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