So, how do I make friends? I honestly have no idea! Maybe I unconsciously steer myself clear of phony people and gravitate to those who will make nervous introductions and awkward small talks worthwhile. Try to keep things light and fun.
How do I make friends online? I’m stumped on that one, too. I guess it just happens? Talk to them online everyday and somehow a bond was forged, personalities were divulged. I am always wary of romantic relationships that started through cyberspace. But friendships? Can it overcome the fickleness that the internet usually portrays?
I found not just friends, but a family as well (as my GR friend Louize puts it). It is really possible to build these awesome relationships with people you just met over the net.
Forgive my sentimentality.
I have a hangover still from our Face-2-Face book discussion last Saturday. It was about The Remains of the Day by Kazuo Ishiguro. If you frequent my blog, then you know that I hate my first Ishiguro read, Never Let Me Go. But The Remains changed my Ishiguro perspective.
Back to my hangover. Another good friend (Angus) moderated the discussion and we had an activity. Should I want to participate, I need to write stories about Love, Loss, Hope, and Regret (the themes found in The Remains). More out of compliance that’s why I wrote something. The Regret story was easy to write but it put me in a sad mood without my realizing it. After finishing the Hope story, I was fighting tears that threaten to spill. My breath was already hitching. Ten words typed in the Loss story, I lost. I cried. Me crying in my workstation at the office – embarrassing. For a second, I was undone. But I have to get moving. Letting the tears fall was good, but these memories of mine are clouding my mind with despair. I have to finish writing before I lose it again. Before typing the Love story, I can already smile (though bitter). But it was enough to gain my bearings. I wrote the last story in a breeze, for it is a happy memory. I wouldn’t want to dwell on it too much but I felt I need the positive charge.
Angus created a folio for my story (together with other contributors). Every participant was under the veil of anonymity, given the personal sharing. Was I nervous that they can tell which story was mine? No. I was proud of it. I draw strength from these experiences. I draw courage from them, to live my life as I see fit: without regrets.
Unlike Mr. Stevens. Ha!
These people who shared my affair with reading, now also share my affair with living. I willingly let them to take a peek of my life before I met them. I mean, if I want to know them more, it is only right that I let them get to know me more, right?
Reading the other contributors’ stories affirmed my belief that no one should bear their life burdens alone. By telling our tales to others, that alone is a proof that we can and we will survive anything, and everything that bitch of a life will throw at us.
So… my reading life has never been this personal or revealing. How about a hug, then?