I had forgotten why I wore my iPod nearly everywhere throughout all of high school: it's a phenomenal mood stabilizer.

So, in light of my GRE tomorrow (and the likely mediocre score I will achieve) and my fast approaching leave from Xanga, let's celebrate with one of those User Questionnaire type things (because I always liked the idea of them and really haven't ever done anything like them here and I'm feeling indulgent).

SO

Ask me anything; nothing is off topic and I shall respond entirely sincerely and truthfully. Yaayyyyy.

We went to the Pride Festival in Chicago today. I would have preferred to go to the parade but my sister's going down to Northwestern for a summer program on the same day so we couldn't. And she's never been to a pride event so, of course, I wasn't going to be having any of that (for the record, she wanted to go; I was just more than happy to aid).

On the way back, I happened to see Ariel in Union Station; I'll come back to this.

About a week or so ago, I happened to run into Joan. There's a principle difference between Joan and Ariel in relation to me, simply by virtue of history. I met Ariel when she was doing Operation Obvious (a campaign to recognize the LGBT movement as the next civil rights movement of our time). She eventually joined The Wit (the high school's literary magazine), which I was also on. I believe she was two years under me and joined The Wit her Sophomore year so, clearly, our interaction was not extensive. That being said, she's a fantastically nice person and someone who I have to admire for the conviction of her beliefs and willingness to pursue them.

Joan, on the other hand, I met through Shane. I haven't really kept in touch with Shane but I took to Joan. I suppose that it always struck me as odd because she was a Freshman during my Senior and I didn't get to know many (a year simply isn't much time, etc.). Perhaps in part because her friends and my friends tended to overlap, I spent a decent amount of time hanging out with Joan my last year of high school and I'm really rather fond of her.

I ran into Joan at a restaurant the family and I were going to. I sort of was walking past – thinking to myself, "Does that girl look familiar?" – and did a double take when I realized it was Joan. She was with someone and I was with the family so there really wasn't much room for catching up. I really should send her a message sometime, in spite of my recent reclusiveness. I know it's not very likely to blossom into a lifelong best friendship or even go far beyond that message (largely my own invertedness and social awkwardness to blame) but I'll probably do it because it's important to let people know they're valued. Even if my close ring of five or less best friends is my constant in life, that certainly doesn't mean those friends I'm less close with aren't very important to me.

In any case, I mention this because, when I saw Ariel today, I was struck by this very particular feeling/thought. The reason I bring up Joan (other than to mention that I was really glad to see her; it's been an…odd year) is that I didn't have the same reaction. I was glad to see Joan but seeing Ariel was markedly different.

While I would certainly like to know Ariel better, I think a good description of us would be acquaintances (which is not something trivial to me, as I've covered before here). But I would certainly describe Joan and I as friends; so, if that was what triggered the reaction, it would have occurred with seeing Joan as well.

While we were at the pride festival, I remember just feeling…comfortable. Safe. It was particularly interesting since my dad was there but maybe it just added to that feeling that I was entering a different community. Memories of the QSU kept coming to me. A girl that "looked like" a lesbian handed me a flyer on becoming a vegan. The guys behind the bar were down to just their underwear. a drag performer was performing on one of the stages. And I'm not trying to say that these groups are in some way fixed (there were women down to just their underwear there as well) but there was familiarity there. And, for whatever flaws I've found or find in my Queer community (whether they're correct or not), I felt safe. Certainly welcomed but also safe. In some ways, it was better than the parade. Sure, there were commercial vendors here as well but, outside of the food, there were causes that directly related to our community here and people who cared about them (and about us) behind those booths and fighting for them.

While I don't quite understand it in total, it would seem that community is actually really important to me, verging on dependent to my well being. While, particularly in relation to discussing and making sense of mental illness, I've become more and more of a fan of the idea of Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs as time goes on, my own social interactions seem to follow a similar trend. When I'm not doing well, I rescind into myself, hard. Only those who are closest to me do I let in, at times only keeping in touch sparing (sometimes cutting off even them). When I feel more comfortable, I'm far more willing to let others in. But the thing is, a true community doesn't just include your closest friends. It includes your friends and it includes your acquaintances.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm always very happy to see those acquaintances very much. And it's not just that I like people: people in general take importance for me and even those who I don't spend much time with are important to me. Ariel is someone I think highly of and there will always be the fact that I met her through The Wit, a group that was very important to me. I'm not going to have the same reaction seeing her as I might if I saw Laila unexpectedly but she's important to me. I feel like I'm repeating myself but I like to be thorough.

My point I am slowly hinting towards is that my reaction, upon seeing Ariel, was a sense of community. I guess I used to wonder, back in high school when – wading through the masses of 5,000 students – we would often stop a million times in the halls saying hello enough times that we barely got through a conversation with the person we were walking with, why we did it. I mean, take Sarah Greenawalt. I always liked Sarah (there was a warmness she always greeted me with which I always appreciated) but our relationship didn't extend beyond a similar friendbase (or at least history) and seeing her in the hall from time to time. I don't see Sarah anymore and am likely not to (wouldn't mind seeing her again one near bit but it's not very likely). So…what was the point (alright, this is a hilarious question because I never think meeting or getting to know any person is ever a waste of time by any measurement; the question doesn't even deserve a response, in my mind; not to mention, like I said, I rather like Sarah as a person)?

I guess it goes without saying that I never really look at anyone I just meet with the expectation of remaining at the level with them forever. With all people, I sincerely want to get to know them better and become best buds with them. But, obviously, that level of friendship doesn't exist with all people at all times. So, while Laila is certainly of more importance to me (I severely don't like the phrasing of that but I'm struggling for a better one) than Sarah, Sarah isn't unimportant (just as I expect I'm "less important" to Sarah in comparison to others Sarah is closer with and has a more extensive history with). Does that make sense?

So, when I saw Ariel today, there was more than just a "Oh! Ariel; I haven't seen her in ages. I should most definitely say hello." moment (this plan went horridly wrong, in the comedic way my life is good for; I spent most of the time in Union station trying to figure out if it was her without being creepy; funnily enough, this usually works just in time in spite of my sluggishness and avoids approaching people that actually just happen to look exceedingly similar to the people I know. This time, though, our train arrived before I said hello. In spite of this, we wound up in the same car anyway. After more trying to make sure it was her – and trying not to look creepy –, I left a comment on her Facebook saying I thought I saw her and wanted to see how she's been. She asks where I am; by the time I respond, she's fallen asleep. And she eventually gets off at her spot. Probably the most successful two hours of my life and best "catching up" scenario I've had).

There was this distinct jolt of community, if that makes sense. And it wasn't just that she was probably in Chicago for the pride festival as well. It was that sense of my home state, the state of my community in high school, where I can still run into a large gamut of people I know. I mean, I didn't get to know Ariel that well in high school (a shame, as I've said, but so ist das leben). And yet, in that same way I'd pass by Sarah in the hall and stop and ask how she's been and what she's up to despite our otherwise limited interaction, I was going (to attempt and fail) to stop by and say hello to Ariel. And it was like, for the first time in a long while, I had a full sense of a community again. Not raggedly thrusting all my weight onto my close friends to pull me forward or silently licking my wounds in the dark and just biding recovery: walking through those halls and having the energy to pay attention to those people who don't loom as large in my life but who are, none the less, very important to me.

I told Antal once that I had realized that I don't seem to fully ingratiate to a community until about four to five years (I think high school was a sped up process, in part thanks to the phenomenal class of '09). I'm not entirely sure what it is; maybe it's just that sense of safety in knowing that I'm amongst people I like and who like me; maybe it's that same connectedness and support I felt walking amongst the pride festival, knowing that – to some degree – we all supported each other and cared about each other even though we didn't really know each other (this actually seems to imply a larger level of separation between myself and Sarah and Ariel than I want to imply but hopefully it gives an idea of what I'm getting at). I don't know.

This isn't a thread that I've made full sense of yet. I don't know what the relevance is of community to me (though I'm fairly certain it has relation to my feelings about people and humanity and my own bizarre need for physicality in spite of my driving tendency to isolate myself; things I shall have to cover at a later time). There's a lot here that I'm not entirely certain about but I've been chewing these ideas and concept for a while. They're coming to slow solidity but they're odd because I'm not used to discovering such fundamental aspects of myself this far into my life.

On a last note (to be honest, I'm not sure if it's related), I've just never understood not wanting to get to know people. It's such a universalizing expectation (so I don't entirely like holding it) but, on a really fundamental level, I don't understand that concept. How do you meet people and not want to know more? How do you not consider it a rare privilege for someone to share parts of their life with you? My immediate reaction is to ask that they continue. My instinct is to throw aside whatever it is I had (something I haven't been entirely the best at doing recently, as my post regarding Amanda noted) to pay attention. How is it not to care and worry and put first? That isn't explaining it right. I can understand how one might not do those last listed three things on accident; what I mean is, how can your reaction to a person not be to want to know more and not be elation at a return of that interest? I suppose that sounds weird until you consider that the whole of our culture pretty much revolves around human connection. Even if it's with just one person, we want human connection. I just want to meet and celebrate every person I meet for every bit of uniqueness they possess. And I don't know why, exactly. I mean, I can come up with a logical defense, obviously. I think I started with that and this emotional reaction has gotten stronger over the years (I think that's largely because it took time to have deeper human connections that, without, I couldn't have ever realized were possible and, thus, have particular emotional responses). But I've always had a strong love for people that I sort of just assumed everyone shared. Not to say people can't be shit. I've known quite a few. But knowing some of the amazing, spell-binding people that I have (and the passion they have and the aspirations and potential abilities and care that they can command) – how do people not see the astounding potential in everyone they meet?

It's not quite related but it's a thought I've been having so I'm tacking it on the end here. While actually trying to orchestrate such a thing would probably never run smoothly (and potentially be astoundingly awkward for all involved), I'd like to see what might happen if all my exes were to meet and get to know each other for a day (that's a nicer way of saying it instead of "plop them all into a room and tell them, "Interact!") – and not just the ones I liked (though I actually would like all the exes that I truly consider to be amazing people to meet each other simply because such phenomenal people deserve to meet other such phenomenal and life-changing people like themselves).

No, I'd like all of them to meet each other because I'd be interested to know what I was to them. Was I sweet? Was I mean? Was I too sarcastic? But, more importantly, was I supportive? Was I helpful? Or was I destructive? Careless? Flippant? Cruel? Did I give them memories worth keeping, in spite of whatever fallout may've occured? Did I give them anything?

Whoever, upon hearing the words sci-fi, thought that should equate to anything other than *hard* science ought to re-evaluate their life.

Why me? I'm nothing special or all that attention grabbing.
Really? I would beg to differ.
Do you think I'm that way? Hardly. No one thinks that they're special or attention-grabbing but other people around them are.

Almost a month until I have to leave here.

It seemed dramatic to me but one of the first feelings I had when I started to consider having to move to another blogging site was exile. Many of us will do the same, feeding the diaspora.

If I'm to be fully honest, I didn't like everyone here. God knows, I have my own few rants in my archive about what tended to be featured on the home page and the ish sites. And yet…I dunno, it was home? There was something comforting about seeing familiar faces or your everyday spam comment in this little community. Maybe it was the order I often find myself lacking or just a sense of home that's so difficult for me to find.

So I dunno, necessarily, what good it will do but I've whipped the below images up. I'll be posting one on whichever blog I go to. That way, at least, we can find each other out there in that massive Internet.

But also it'll be a sign of what Xanga meant and that we still believe in it. Just like a people's feelings towards their country, I imagine that will, ultimately, be different for each person. But it seemed united enough that we all rallied here, that most of us found that no where else seemed to really fill the need quite as Xanga did. Whatever we are, we found it important.

The images are below. Use them or altar them to your heart's content.

I got a two box set of records titled The Greatest Records of the Big Band Era for only $1.37. I've certainly had worse days.

If you consistently get angry about not being able to hear me, you have no right to get angry when I ask what you said several times.

*The Sister and I sitting on a bed; her hair is rather curly and somewhat frizzy*
Sister: My – God, can you see how crazy and cool my hair is‽ *whips it around her head*
*Suddenly, she stands up and bends over so that the top of her scalp is touching the top of mine*
Sister: Can you feel it? Are you experiencing how awesome it is to have my hair?

     These infernal emotions screw everything touched by them up. You would think a benevolent God would possess at least one means of living that didn't include what is vomiting feels. Or perhaps, in His infinite wisdom, it's found to be wise to relinquish entirely the notion of able control? Is it possible, maybe, I might introduce myself, once, unencumbered by practicing knots with my tongue like a sport? I would rather articulate audibly, thank you –
     Enough! These incessant internal soliloquies come to their end: I will not spend the whole of my life merely prattling on in my head in confinement by simple petitions that form in me ceaseless unrest from prolonged indiscretions in which it is clear that I can't be provoked to the point where I don't find offence at expecting to shed all my thoughts
     "Really, Chrissy, this time can be better spent than in silence." Chrissy doubted that there was any realization to it but the pen was beginning to tap against the notepad in time with the clock on the wall. A sigh. "I can't help you if you have no interest in helping me. You can leave unless you're going to actually add anything to this discussion." There was a second's pause before Chrissy got up from the chair, muttering,
     "'Fraid I won't."