Paint It Black

This is a bit of a rant, and a long one at that. Do not feel obligated to read it. There will be no quiz.

As I suspect is the case with many people, without really giving it a whole lot of thought, I tend to pick music to match my mood. Sometimes what I’m selecting on the iPod is my first clue that something’s bothering me. I feel that I’m fairly introspective overall, but tending toward an even temper without much expression, a vague irritability is often all I sense when I’m in a foul mood.

This evening, after selecting Blink-182’s “Dammit,” Bad Religion’s “Sorrow,” The Rolling Stone’s “Paint It Black,” Rage Against the Machine’s “No Shelter” and Nine Inch Nail’s “Hurt,” I was beginning to think something was up. Taking a break from organizing my desk (I am an accountant, after all, this is what we generally do for fun), I sat and stared at the wall for awhile. Finding limited enlightenment in the drywall, I wandered downstairs to check my e-mail. Empty, as per usual. I checked my Facebook, read a few updates from my dozen or so friends. Yes, for all my high and mighty talk about avoiding social networking, I joined this week… so if you’re on and want to friend me, feel free, it’s under “Lisa Pool” since I think “Lisa Loveridge” sounds funny. Anyway…

This isn’t meant to be a complaint about not getting any e-mail or my limited number of Facebook friends, or an indictment of Steve’s ability to entertain me (since he has always been and continues to be wonderful). For the 9 years that Steve and I have lived primarily in Santa Cruz, I’ve really felt pretty contented (socially speaking that is… housing has been another story, but luckily that’s good now). But after graduating, having our one local friend who I very much enjoyed talking with move away and leaving my horrid big-4 accounting job, my regular social interaction evaporated. Apparently about 4 years of consistent social depravation is about all I can handle.

To anyone who’s thinking “well, go out and make some friends,” apparently you don’t know me very well. While I may be plenty chatty once I’m comfortable with you, I’m paralyzingly shy with people I don’t know well. I can’t think of a single friend I’ve made in my life of my own initiative. I’ve had some wonderful friends, but they all either initiated the social contact themselves, or were brought into my life by mutual friends.

I suspect this social “cabin fever” was what brought me to sign up for Facebook, being I suspect one of the last people on Earth to do so. It brought me to overcome my strong reluctance to initiate social contact and call up some old friends. I was delighted to spend time with some of them the last time I was in Southern California.

Thinking back on my high school days, I miss the social contact tremendously. I had a small group of friends and didn’t pursue relationships with many people (which in retrospect I regret… many of the kids I went to school with were fascinating people) but I was happy with that level of socializing. I always had something to do on the weekends and often had long conversations with various friends on the phone.

You can’t go back. Essentially falling off the grid to the people I knew by moving to Northern California, I put distance between myself and almost all my friends and friendly acquaintances. I found that I was uninterested in my college peers. I saw one guy in a Dimmu Borgir (a death metal band) shirt and combat boots in one of my classes and thought “I bet I could get along with him.” But, of course, I didn’t introduce myself. There was a small group of nerds in my dorm, but they all knew each other and didn’t take kindly to me swooping in and winning all three of their original Star Wars trivia contests. And the other kids either seemed to be party types or stiff eggheads. Being neither, I made no friends in college. Steve faired better at meeting people, but only one was a “keeper” and he’s the friend I referred to earlier that moved away several years ago.

I met some great girls at KPMG’s orientation in Chicago. The four of us bonded over mutual contempt for the curriculum and had a grand old time. I was lucky enough to work on a few projects with some of them during my miserable six months at the company.

But for the past 4 years, I’ve worked a job that, while wonderful in many ways, provides essentially no social interaction. I am the only employee and while my boss is a nice guy, I think he comes to work primarily to get some peace and quiet since he has a hectic family life. And outside of tax season, I’m not actually at work much anyway. I have a million little projects and things to do at home, so I keep busy, but I can go an entire day without saying a word to anyone. Steve does his best to chat with me when he gets home, but he needs his down time from work and I understand and respect that.

I never thought we’d be in Santa Cruz as long as we have been. In a lot of ways, our life is idyllic. Our commutes are both 10 minutes at most. We can walk anywhere we want to go in town: the beach, downtown, the grocery store and our favorite restaurants. The weather is fantastic here. Wonderful rainy winters that I love and mild, pleasant summers. It is truly beautiful here. We live in a stand-alone house with a pretty large backyard that has, by some amazing stroke of luck, affordable rent. We’re finally debt free after years of working toward that goal. So I feel a bit ridiculous complaining about anything right now.

What is the point of this? I’m not entirely sure. I suppose to share my state of mind. That’s part of what all this newfangled social media is all about, after all. I do feel a little bit better after writing this. Maybe I’ll see if I can find something a little lighter to listen to and try to keep from losing my mind for another day.