My conceptions of the world, 1

Well, at least it's one of them. Ahoy. All freewrites begin with "ahoy."

1

Somewhere, somewhere, was it Hills's blog?, somewhere, I saw something that remarked upon the suggestion that the term "best friend" isn't really used that often once you get older. That made me think about why that is.

Eventually, we all wonder how much our friends are friends to us and vice-versa. We wonder whether our friends are the same people we knew back when they first became our friends. We wonder whether we're still friends at times because, well, it was so long ago when we became friends, and they have become oddly unfamiliar to me because they've changed so much and we haven't been together enough recently for me to adapt to these changes. But if you think about it, maybe that's all it is: these changes driving us nuts. (SORRY FOR OBVIOUS PRONOUN CLARITY PROBLEMS)

Here's another thing. It's undeniable that we build up defenses, and that a lot of the defenses are just crap we put there to defend ourselves against other crap. So eventually you pile up this crap around you to defend yourself from being pilfered by people throwing crap at you, and this is the same for everyone else you know! Picture that this big pile of crap is an igloo. A selectively permeable igloo. There are certain people you let inside, and certain levels to which people can enter.

Look at it another way. Sometimes you pile up so much crap you lose the route back to yourself! In those times, you have to dig a route back to yourself again. Sometimes, you'll need other people's help. But you've got to be careful, because the people who help you also can follow the route back (that they've created) to get past your defenses. Your defenses of crap, albeit. But still. That's the problem with asking other people to find answers for you; well, one of them anyways. Still, sometimes, it's absolutely necessary. In any case, from there you can dig another route back through the crap to yourself (isn't this a weird dichotomy: the "real self" and the "fake self"?), just in case you need to close off the route that someone else helped you make.

But here's the kicker, or the real point, or whatever (isn't "here's the kicker" for humorous situations exclusively?): these piles of crap are what prevent us from sensing/understanding/interacting with/feeling/WHATEVER the people we thought we knew. You just gotta keep poking around. :)

I almost didn't feel like getting out of my warm bed to do this, so don't h8r8, appreci8.

I have to re-read Norwegian Wood by Murakami. It has absolutely some of the most intensely emotional characters a novel has ever introduced me to. So good.