When the character of a man is not clear to you, look at his friends.

—Japanese Proverb

Ever meet someone whose company was questionable at best, and think, “Why does this person hang out with these people?”

One may immediately think of the “friends” in question, people who prove to be stupid, superficial, unpleasant at best. Ultimately, however, the truth lies in the key person who keeps such company. The aphorisms have never been more true.

In the case of questionable company, the answer is attention. A person with a motley crew of friends, each one unlike the next, and each one consistent in their lack of social skills, is most likely a person who is after attention.

The reasons for this are as plentiful as they are varied. Some are only comfortable when they are around others. Others enjoy the feeling of being a person who knows everyone. And some are so subconsciously insecure as to need such company to believe they’re of some value. So, to understand the seemingly eclectic taste in people of the key person, one must look to his or her company.

And often that proves to be more revealing than anything else.

It’s always fun to joke around with Aaron about how high maintenance he is. “Negative maintenance”, we call it, since it’s all in relation to the girl. I don’t think that I ever stay as one type of maintenance; it usually depends on the relationship and girl for me.

Nick told me yesterday that I was the most independent person he knows. Being the most anything to someone is always interesting. “Independent?”, I asked. After living with me for a few months, he hasn’t known anyone else who can stay in their room for days on end, he explained. “More like no life”, I thought.

Ever since I was a kid, I haven’t had many friends. For about two years in grade three to grade four, I hung around Andrew and Alex mostly, but this ended when they switched schools. Until grade eight, I had no one to talk to or do things with. I was the friendly loner in school, the person no one disliked who was never invited to anything. In grade eight I became fast friends with Greg, until I swapped schools with him, and he found a more popular group. Then once again, I ate lunches by myself. For two entire summers, and — I do not embellish this one bit — I stayed in my house and played solitaire for four months, unless visiting relatives.

In grade eleven I became friends with John (even though I’ve known him since grade five) but John was even more of a loner than me. We would do some crazy shit during our lunches, and ended up pissing off more than one teacher. Ever since then, I’ve had an anchor, someone I could turn to and talk to, although moving to a different city has hindered the amount of time we could spend together.

In the first and second year of university I wouldn’t leave my room. People called it “the dungeon”, and asked me what I was doing outside whenever I was waiting for an elevator. I didn’t get along too well with the people on my floor (intolerance, yet again) and the friends I made in class weren’t anti-social, but weren’t social as well. I would get to my room on Fridays, and generally not leave until I had to go back to class on Monday.

It’s only been in third year, after meeting Aaron and Trolley, that I feel like I’ve come into a comfortable group. I’ve been fortunate to have picked up some good friends along the way, such as Eugene, Dina, and Pat, but our relationships are more limited, due to a lack of time spent together. I mean, Aaron and Trolley are the ones I can get drunk with, stoned with, who take care of me, who I exchange secrets with, who I feel most comfortable with. (Oddly enough, my ultimate test for this is how loud I can sing in front of them, but that’s another story altogether)

However, most people are busy with school now, and I’m left in my room most of the time. I actually do stay in the apartment quite a bit, and yet it doesn’t feel strange to me. I’ve been trained my whole life to be a loner, as someone with no life. Perhaps this can be seen as some sort of independence, but in reality I’m dependent on my friends. I’m just waiting until everyone is done school and has enough free time to do things. I can’t wait until that happens.

And if I end up no friends? I think I’d be sad.

But I’d be used to it.

You’re sitting inside the local Timmies, when you can see the drizzling rain coming down from the black sky through the window. The workers are in the back where you can’t see them, but you can hear them talk about mindless subjects, conversation to pass the graveyard shift. Soft, complacent music plays all around you, drowning out the silence but numbing you to sound. A group of four males in their late twenties sits at another table, there for a midnight snack, dressed in their dark rain clothes. A couple shares a table by the window, both barely talking, simply looking outside.

There are three other people at your square table, where the seats pivot on a pole and feel hard but comfortable. You feel at ease, as if you can say anything both in and out of character and not worry about what others think. You relax enough to cachinnate inclemently, to speak ribald matters, to not speak at all. You let down your guard, something that rarely happens even in close company, but you feel vulnerable but safe.

The conversation is balanced and the pace is just right. You’re filled with jocundity and wish the feeling wouldn’t stop as soon as you step back outside into the rain. This simple situation has put you in good spirits. You wonder if you’ll ever get to do this again and feel the same way. You hope that fate will place you here again in the future.

With your friends on a chilly fall night.

I feel worthless.

She hugged him tight round the neck, her arms trembling, as though she was trying to pass her soul to him with that kiss. No, it was right and proper she should die!

I find that I’m beginning to compare myself with others, in order that I feel better about myself. I keep telling myself that I have no debt, no ailments, and barely any responsibilities. I’m a university graduate, I live in a great city in a comfortable apartment, I’ve finally fallen into a great bunch of stand-up friends. Why does it feel as though I have nothing, that I’ve accomplished nothing, that my life is nothing? That in my nearly 23 years of life, I have nothing to show for it but a few frissons and a life or two affected.

If only I was being too hard on myself.

My days here have been busy. I’m usually doing something from one moment to the next. I now understand a way of spending one’s time differently from one I’ve ever experienced. I find that I’m generally a person who’s cosmopolitan enough to be able to pass time enjoyably with most people. However, most of my friends seem to be doers, always needing something to do lest an awkward silence set in. These last five days have been filled with comfortable silences though, just from meeting and hanging out with people who are comfortable enough with each other to simply let conversation flow at its own pace. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to look at hanging out with my friends in the same way again.

I watched In The Bedroom with Darren yesterday. Although I thought it was a very well made film, with usually moving (though drawn out) storytelling, I didn’t enjoy it very much. There didn’t seem to be much of a message at the end, which leaves the entertainment of the film up to the the story, characters, and plot, all which I felt to be very shallow. The film is supposed to be about “the bonds of marriage and the limits of forgiveness [being] put to the test”, but there was only one major conflict and only a few shallow attempts at developing characters and motives. It just didn’t seem to go anywhere, and without interesting (to me, at least) events taking place, I felt as if my time would have been better spent elsewhere.

Speaking of films, I’ve been able to catch a few trailers which have piqued my curiosity. The Good Thief with Nick Nolte seems like an amazingly stylized movie (directed by Neil Jordan) about a retired art crook doing one last heist. It appeals to me because of the way Nolte seems to bring a presence of conflicting humanity with his slurred speech and rugged looks. I also find the slow, patient tune at the end of the trailer to fit perfectly with the cinematography, the way Nolte looks at his lighter before closing it on a brightly grey day with the movement of a city in the background. All of this from a trailer, and I’m already hooked. Kill Bill also looks amazing, in a cheesy, Tarantino sort of way.