When I first moved to Chicago, I desperately wished for someone to scoop me up and befriend me. "If I met someone who had just moved to a strange city and didn't know a soul, I'd definitely invite them out," I told myself, and was naive enough to think someone would grant me the same kindness. Not so. Everyone I met was very friendly, but it was months before I had a band of people to call "friends," not by default of being their roommate or coworker, but because we liked each other and actually wanted to spend time together.

It hurt. It hurt me that people, in general, turned a seemingly blind eye to my obvious need ... not that I was clingy and "needy," per se, but all evidence pointed to the fact that I was lacking in friends. Namely, that I had just moved halfway across the country and was open about the fact that I didn't know anyone. Doesn't take a genius to conclude that my dance card was pretty empty, and any effort to reach out to me would be appreciated. Some people did reach out, bless them. But not many, and they didn't reach very far.

I was bored and lonely, which often caused me to feel uncomfortable and awkward around other people, which led to me seeking more and more time alone. Quite a counter-productive approach in pursuit of a social life, eh? Not that I didn't try to make friends; I did try. I talked to people, I went out for drinks after work or acting class, etc., but everyone has his/her own sphere, his/her own context, a social home that exists beyond the atmosphere that one gets paid to occupy (job), or the atmosphere that one gets billed to fill (acting class). I didn't have that home.

Boo-hoo.

It's daunting and depressing to try to break into established social circles. Through shows, roommate drama, and acting classes, I have finally made good friends. There's no magical formula to this; you involve yourself in activities you like to meet people with common interests, blablabla, Teen magazine advice column crap ... but still, it's a slow process, and I still remember the lonely periods, wishing that some fairy godmother would *ding* me with her wand, and give me just one real friend, and quick as lightning, that friend would appear.

And then? Whee! Break out the Barbies!

No, but I thought from ONE friend would spawn a NETWORK of friends, and I wouldn't have any more awkward nights at home playing the fun game of mutual polite avoidance with my roommates, during that period when my then-roommates (now good friends) and I didn't know what to do with each other. It's amazing how childlike you become when you are vulnerable. Yanking the rug from under yourself is quite the re-learning experience.

Anyway.

So, a few weeks ago, a new actress was added to our cast. She had just moved to Chicago 2 weeks prior, and, like me when I got here a year ago, didn't know a soul. I left early during her first rehearsal with us, but on my way out, I grabbed the notebook by her bag and wrote:

"Courtney, when I moved here, I didn't know anyone, and I know that it can really fucking suck. If you ever want to get a beer, here's my number: 7## ### ####. Call me. Really.

Kelly"

I mean, I didn't want to be a hypocrite.

Me, oh my, ain't I a hero?

So, Courtney and I had been getting to know each other during rehearsals, and last night, we went to Moody's pub to bond over a pitcher of crappy sangria.

She's wonderful. Wonderful.

After making the first gesture towards friendship, I wondered if I was digging a hole for myself. There was quite a big chance that she'd turn out to be an annoying psycho, after all. Nope. She's wonderful. Lots in common, lots in contrast, lots to talk about.

I kept my promise to myself to reach out to a stranger, and I'd do it again.

I was in cab a few months ago, listening to the cabbie's tale of leaving his career as a computer engineer to drive a taxi. He was from Togo, and was having difficulty adjusting to the American philosophy of individual, dog-eat-dog success. He often stayed late at the office, he said, to help colleagues with projects. Not because he had been asked or was getting paid, as neither of those were the case, but because he'd want someone to do that for him. It occurred to him one day that no one had ever returned the favor, he quit, and has been driving a cab ever since. He came to equate the self-serving drive he observed in his former co-workers with "The American Way."

That made me so sad. "I wouldn't have done that to you," I said, and immediately wondered if it was true. I've tried to make a concerted effort since then to heed my own words.

Crimony, I'm cheezy today. Self-righteous much? Sorry. I fear I'm making Rush Limbaugh look like a fucking Care Bear.

I am not religious, but I was raised attending Catholic church, and there are many aspects of Christianity that still touch me. One of the Bible stories that sticks with me (in moral more than in detail ... forgive the discrepancies, if you're familiar with it) involved a Christian man meeting a number of people in need, whether it was on the road or at his door, I don't remember... Each of the people asked the man for help, and he turned each of them away. Finally, Jesus came to the man, who obviously greeted him with warmth and generosity. Jesus recalled to the man the beggars who had come previously, and the man spoke of them with disdain. "Each of those men," Jesus said, "was I." (Or, you know. Words to that effect.) The man was dumbfounded.

I don't know, dude. That story tripped me out. I mean, there's the element of "getting caught" that shouldn't really factor into kindness and generosity. You know, the possible interpretation that "you better be nice to people, because they all might really be Jesus, and if you're mean, won't you be in trouble?" I don't interpret it as such, though. I interpret it more as recognizing possibilities of goodness within every person, and ... um ... returning a favor in advance, partially. Mostly, I think it's just crappy to hope to receive impartial kindness or generosity if you wouldn't grant it yourself. That's what I carried away from that (sketchily relayed) story.

I don't know what I feel about Jesus as God or Messiah. I don't know what I feel about God. I don't really worry about it. I do believe in Jesus as a historical figure, however, like Gandhi, who touted truth and goodness through story and example. And I've come to the decision that though I don't know whether or not he was son of God, it's not important. He was one hep cat, yo.

"Namaste" is a Hindu greeting, one translation of which is "The divine within me recognizes the divine within you." That floors me. It's such a beautiful equalizer, much different from the fire and brimstone "YOU'RE ALL BORN SINNERS SO YOU BETTER FUCKING MAKE UP FOR IT" approach (an approach which, I think, is thankfully less common than it once was,) of many religions. It conveys an openness and an immediate respect for yourself and the other. We're all divine, so let's hang out. Right?

Sure.

So, "namaste" is another possible interpretation behind the Christian parable.

Or, you can interpret the moral as "We're all brothers and sisters, children of God."

Or, you can see the reasoning that "It's just The Way," either in the vein of Eastern philosphies, or if you're atheist, that it just makes sense to do "good," in that you'd want someone to do the same for you. The atheists I know are among the best, most calmly moral people I've ever met.

Or, if you must, choose the motivation of "I must escape eternal damnation."

I mean, whatever. Anyway, it's not really difficult to be nice. It's much simpler than cruelty.

How did I get from Moody's Pub to here? Sorry.

Anyway, I have a new friend.

Lovingly blowing hot air,

Kelluvabeans

~ Last Five Entries ~

Moths, and Relative Nonsense - 08.18.05

I Finally Have Internet Access in my Bedroom. But, No Ashtray. - 08.09.05

Here I Am - 08.02.05

One-Armed Paper Hanger Earns her Wings - 07.29.05

Sugar & Lemon - 07.28.05

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