Yesterday I came across a person I had met about 15 years ago. Back then, I worked with them for a short time and there was a significant age difference that created a bit of a weird power dynamic where I was definitely the “junior” between us. Despite this, I felt like this other person was weird, stupid, and very unlikable. They were just fucking odd, and tried to act like they were super experienced and smart but their ideas and approach at work showed otherwise. I wasn’t the only person who felt like this, my co-workers thought the person was nuts and the patrons didn’t like them either.
I didn’t initially recognize the weirdo when I bumped into them yesterday, but I did think they were fucking strange and histrionic, seeking a lot of attention in really unhealthy ways. Once I recognized them, I thought “holy shit, I was right all those years ago — they’re a total fucking loony idiot.” I felt a real surge of pride in my ability to read them so accurately 15 years ago, and I wanted to reach out to my co-workers from back then and say, “do you remember ______? Well, listen to this.”
But I can’t do that, because I don’t work at that place anymore and don’t keep in touch with any of those co-workers, and that’s got me a little bummed. It got me thinking about what it’s going to be like to age and eventually lose people I have shared big life experiences with. It actually feels surprisingly isolating that I don’t have anyone in my life who I can ring up and gab about this crazy person with. And this is small potatoes — what’s it going to be like when everyone I played music with, partied with, went dancing with, etc is dead or moved away or has otherwise lost touch? Man, that’s going to suck. I guess what I’ve learned is that good memories are only awesome to have when you have someone to reminisce about them with. Without that, they can turn from a nice thing that helps us feel connected into something sad that makes us feel isolated.
Boy oh boy, the big picture sure does look grim sometimes.
crimson highway 