sometimes owing myself all the money

What I’m Still Looking For

a shampoo that lathers very well, a show on Netflix that will keep me as occupied as Gilmore Girls did, appropriate shoes to wear in the summer rain, a product that gets rid of these old acne scars, something that holds the volume in my hair and keeps it, a place nearby that has queso,

a way to feel happy sometimes when I’m doing well and I still don’t feel happy, a way to hold onto all the good things I know I have, the left pink sock, all of the hair ties I’ve ever lost,

a way to fall asleep without thinking too much, a wine I can recognize and order at restaurants, it is white and sweet without being too sweet, the perfect way to express I am upset without making it a big production, a good way to express anger, the courage I owe myself to tell people how I feel rather than hold it in inside,

the foresight to save money when I need it, this scent I can’t even begin to remember where it’s from, just for a moment to feel like I am going on the right track and will not crash and burn, the ability to make small talk, maybe not, I think I mean the ability to braid,

a way to not be so hard on myself, and still sort of timid to the world, and still a little unsure, a hairstyle I can do in a few minutes that makes me look like a princess, a way to let go, a grasp of it, the kind of intelligence that goes towards meal planning and book keeping, my Kindle, the one black glove, all those little things I worry I will never see again

and the hope that I will never be satisfied


I, how could I describe myself? Sometimes I didn’t feel like I was from this age if I was being honest. I looked at the world in disgust how people were acting towards each other. So much hate, no kindness. And even though I might be just a little change, it was something. I’m Evan Deldicque, I owe some big company after I programmed a thing in high school that turned out more useful than any of us thought it would be and I became on instant rich. But instead of throwing all the money away, I invested.

And there she was sitting, at the table, a beautiful smile covering her face. Just like it covered mine. She was breathtakingly beautiful and I know I had to get to her. I was about to approach her when my sister came up to me to kiss my cheek and wish me a happy new year. I smiled lightly, but when I looked again, she was gone..

On Friends Who Come To Visit, And Friends Who Don't

“When are you going to come visit” is one of those very sad phrases that starts off, in the early months of you moving somewhere new, as some kind of raucous, giggly call to action, and ends up, a year or so later, as some kind of mourning call to remind that person that you still live there, and they have never come to see you. The timbre of it changes over the course of six months, a year, a couple holidays, and you realize that your move to this new place means that you have gone somewhere, and a lot of things that you had taken for granted did not follow you.

I have tried as much as possible to visit old friends this year, to arrange meetings when I am a few states (or an ocean) away, and though I realize that this is a profound privilege, it also feels to me like necessity. I would rather spend my money on travel – particularly travel to see and spend time with people I love and miss – than nearly everything else. And sometimes, things just coincide nicely. You go somewhere for work or family, and you end up having a lot of time to see the people who surround those things. We have two very good friends, a couple – who met at my housewarming party, a big point of pride – moving to New York for a few months next year. I don’t flatter myself to think that it was to see us (it is for work), but there is a serendipity to it all that we laugh about and try our best not to take for granted.

And sometimes these things don’t line up nicely, and people don’t visit, not because they don’t want to, but because travel is expensive and sometimes they have other priorities with their money. They prefer concerts or new clothes or a bigger apartment or going out to eat a lot – all of which are perfectly fine, and don’t need any kind of justification. No one owes you the logistical and financial investment of a weekend visit, no matter how much you want them to come. Even if someone had limitless time and disposable income, it would still be well within their right to say “I think that this friendship has dissolved from distance enough that a visit wouldn’t be a good use of my time.”

But wouldn’t that be the saddest thing? I know that it’s the truth in many cases, that people don’t visit because, for whatever reason, they haven’t made it a priority – and that that should speak for itself – but it’s hard to accept. It feels like a moral failing on my part, like if I were a better and more giving person, they would still want to come and stay a weekend in the city. And there is probably some truth to that, but mostly it’s just the natural passage of time and geography. People used to move and, without the crutch of social media, would fall out of touch with one another unless they were in that very, very close, near-family rung of friendship. Now we subconsciously upgrade friends to a bracket of closeness higher than they really belong because we see their names and faces on our screens every day, and assume that they are a bigger part of our life than they really are.

I try not to hold it against people when they can’t (or won’t) visit, and accept their natural progression to the periphery of my life with a certain kind of calm nostalgia. I miss what we had, yes, but understand that it was a different era of my life, when I was a different person and our friendship made more sense for both of us. But sometimes I cannot help it, and with a tinge of resentment, I will ask when so-and-so is coming to visit, mostly because I know they won’t. Because there is a little part of my brain that wants to hold onto things, and gets angry at the idea that some things have to end in a trickling, sad way. When it loves, it would rather things go out with a bang.