Tuesday, June 27, 2006

Welcome to This One-Man Show

Well, this is fucking depressing.

Nearly a quarter of people surveyed said they had "zero" close friends with whom to discuss personal matters. More than 50 percent named two or fewer confidants, most often immediate family members, the researchers said.

I was thinking about this report last night as I sat in my apartment. What the hell is wrong with us as a society? I'm not in this horrific percentage with no close confidants. I'd say I have two or three, four if you count my Mom, who is the immediate family member I confide in. But I'm one of those warm, fuzzy, schmoopy people. I like being a confidant for my friends. I like being able to help them out. I can't imagine the twenty-five percent of people who have nobody. Who helps them move? Who listens to them blow their nose in the phone when their heart breaks? Who do they go on vacation with?

Our society is fucked up. I think that's what it all boils down to. We're told that we've never been more connected to each other. We have cell phones and instant messengers and email and instant messengers built in to our email, but what good is it if you don't have anyone to talk to? We watch television shows where "real" people confess their darkest secrets into a camera, but we can't bring ourselves to trust another human being with the choice contents in the deep dark recesses of our own souls?

Are we driven solely by money? We have to work to have money to have cell phones and computers and iPods, not just a house, clothes and food? Are we so driven to have all the stuff that we think we need that we cut ourselves off from people since maintaining a relationship takes time away from work? Because if that's the case, kill me now.

I hate resorting to the rhetorical questions, but I don't have any answers that apply to everyone. All I know is that I think I'm here on this planet not to be a little worker bee and have the best laptop or the biggest house. I feel like I'm here to mean something to people. Not in the fame-whore, cover of People meaning, but in the making the human race better, even if only a little meaning. I want the kids I babysit to remember me as the woman who took them to the beach and bought them clamstrips and spoiled them a little since their grandparents live far away. I want my family and friends to think of me as someone who they can call when they need me, who will be there through the good and bad shit. I hope that by writing this blog, somebody reads it and says, "Wow, this crazy girl with the Pete Bouchard fetish feels the way I feel about Mitt Romney and the Red Sox." I don't want to end up meaning nothing in the big pond of life, like a little bug who only makes one little ripple. I want to be the big, weird bug who motors around the surface of the water, making ripples everywhere.

Now I'm all bummed out. I have got to stop listening to Nine Inch Nails for a few minutes.

1 comment:

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