I've moved my blog to WP: idefiningi.wordpress.com
November 21, 2015
close (adj., v.)
My second week in London moved faster than the first. Some days still felt long, some hours, minutes even - like when I'd get a jolt of homesickness or anxiety over something. But for the most part, it's been steady. I've been thinking though, about what it means to close off and come close as I spend more time with new people - and myself.
Some days, I miss the closeness I had with people. So many new faces, or old faces becoming new as I'm for the first time forming friendships with long-lost family and friends. Some days, I can't wait to get out there and become closer with everyone. At other times, I feel like closing off from everyone because it takes so much energy to get deeper with new people - and time.
Many days I prefer to be by myself. So that I can be with someone I feel very close to. Maybe that sounds weird. But, it's good, I swear.
The weekend comes around and I think about the plans I would have had with my closest friends back home. And then as potential plans start to trickle in, I get excited again and the over-sentimentality passes.
Yesterday, I went to a party at Meryl’s for her flatmate’s birthday. Through the sheer way that connectedness works in the world, the party was packed with Canadians. One of whom approached me in a hallway a few hours into the party while we were all on our way to getting a wee bit sloshed.
She said I looked very familiar, though was sure we hadn’t met. I retrieved her name from my mental rolodex and said “Sophie Busby.” I also was sure we had never met, but I knew her face and name through a mutual friend from Vancouver, her best friend Katy - and an old close friend of mine with whom I had lost contact over the years. Why? Because of a reason that over time has lost it's weight (I still can’t remember what our “big falling out” was about exactly) - maybe, some six years ago now (?) Even after our falling out, I had tried to open up to a second chance when I ran into her (now ex-)boyfriend four years ago. He had told me that she hadn’t tried to get in touch as she thought I was still angry with her, and so I told him “nope!” and that we should give it another shot. I told him to tell her to get in touch with me.
I never heard from her that summer. And so a new-found resentment was formed inside me and I eventually forgot about her.
I relayed this to Sophie last night and today, I got a message from Katy on Facebook. And when I scrolled up, there it was: A long-lost message from June 2011 when she had reached out, buried deep inside Facebook Messenger.
Until she wrote “Vienna” earlier this evening (an autocorrected version of “Vish” perfectly and serendipitously timed with my most recent update that I had booked a flight there), I had missed it. She’s in Ireland now, and we are going to meet - again, and grab that coffee we should have four years ago.
It’s shocking. That it took my moving all the way to London to find a new old friend. We’re planning a visit this December.
Some days, I miss the closeness I had with people. So many new faces, or old faces becoming new as I'm for the first time forming friendships with long-lost family and friends. Some days, I can't wait to get out there and become closer with everyone. At other times, I feel like closing off from everyone because it takes so much energy to get deeper with new people - and time.
Many days I prefer to be by myself. So that I can be with someone I feel very close to. Maybe that sounds weird. But, it's good, I swear.
close (v.) 12c., from Latin clausus, "to shut, close; to block up, make inaccessible; put an end to; shut in, enclose, confine".Possible PIE root *klau- "hook, peg, crooked or forked branch" (see Latin clavis" key," clavus "nail," claustra "dam, wall, barricade." Meaning "draw near to" is from 1520s. Intransitive meaning "draw together, come together" is from 1550s, Meaning "bring together the parts of" (a book, etc.) is from 1560s.
Yesterday, I went to a party at Meryl’s for her flatmate’s birthday. Through the sheer way that connectedness works in the world, the party was packed with Canadians. One of whom approached me in a hallway a few hours into the party while we were all on our way to getting a wee bit sloshed.
She said I looked very familiar, though was sure we hadn’t met. I retrieved her name from my mental rolodex and said “Sophie Busby.” I also was sure we had never met, but I knew her face and name through a mutual friend from Vancouver, her best friend Katy - and an old close friend of mine with whom I had lost contact over the years. Why? Because of a reason that over time has lost it's weight (I still can’t remember what our “big falling out” was about exactly) - maybe, some six years ago now (?) Even after our falling out, I had tried to open up to a second chance when I ran into her (now ex-)boyfriend four years ago. He had told me that she hadn’t tried to get in touch as she thought I was still angry with her, and so I told him “nope!” and that we should give it another shot. I told him to tell her to get in touch with me.
I never heard from her that summer. And so a new-found resentment was formed inside me and I eventually forgot about her.
I relayed this to Sophie last night and today, I got a message from Katy on Facebook. And when I scrolled up, there it was: A long-lost message from June 2011 when she had reached out, buried deep inside Facebook Messenger.
Until she wrote “Vienna” earlier this evening (an autocorrected version of “Vish” perfectly and serendipitously timed with my most recent update that I had booked a flight there), I had missed it. She’s in Ireland now, and we are going to meet - again, and grab that coffee we should have four years ago.
It’s shocking. That it took my moving all the way to London to find a new old friend. We’re planning a visit this December.
close (adj.) 12c, from Old French clos "confined; concealed, secret; taciturn," from Latin clausus "close, reserved." Main sense shifting to "near" (late 15c.) by way of "closing the gap between two things." Meaning "near" in a figurative sense, of persons, from 1560s.
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