Thursday, December 18, 2008

In what was surely a temporary madness, I seriously considered adopting a dog a few weeks ago, only to come to my senses quickly and decide–for Fido’s sake–to table the idea for now. I’ve always liked dogs, and having grown up with one I know the effort and time required. It’s a commitment at least 10-15 years long with rewarding moments, to be sure, but currently those moments buckle beneath the weight of the necessary attention, not to mention the associated cost.

Besides, I need to focus on people, not canines, in order to create some semblance of a social life, which is currently nonexistent. Recently I was this close to attending an alumni event, specifically an evening at a tavern of some sort, until I realized it was at a tavern, in the evening, with people involved, plus an entry fee of $20. That’s three burritos and a handful of chips, incidentally. The winter issue of the university magazine had also fortuitously arrived a week earlier, a recap of the summer event tucked carefully in its pages: apparently there was a gathering at an alumni household “to socialize and network,” with the Panthers quarterback as the guest of honor, which to me has all the appeal of a Tupperware party held deep in the forest.

I may seem hopeless to you, but let me assure you part of me earnestly wishes to be normal. To be a real mensch, as it were. I’m going to start jotting my ideas and plans pertaining to all things social onto paper. Real paper. Scrap paper, to be exact. It’s the preferred way of sorting my thoughts. Good things happen when I turn to this medium at the junctures that matter most, and when paper gives under pen, all the secrets of the world are revealed.