jaysaint Getting it all down on paper…

Last year we were at a fancy schmantzy Oscar party. This year we’re on the couch in our pjs. This year is so great because I’m freed from being polite or pretending to care about awards like sound editing. I know it’s important. But I’m just not going to care anyway. That way I can do things like upload this cute photo I took of Fat Sam yesterday:

I’m proud and pleased to be Sicilian. I’m the first in my family to be “mixed” actually, as my wanton mother went off and married a man who wasn’t 100%. But my grandpa (Casimiro Cianciolo, for those keeping track) always, and I mean always, said to me, “Don’t ever let anyone tell you you’re not an Italian girl.” So there. Not that anyone has ever tried to tell me any such thing.

But I just saw some Highland Games on TV, and I’ve actually seen them live once. And I think it would be super cool to be Scottish. Super cool.

I’ve seen a lot of notices on journals lately about Friends list maintenance. For myself, I generally keep a pretty short list so it’s rare I need to do anything with it. I did eliminate someone once who’d found me on a random search (before I was “Friends Only”). His rampant insecurity was reflected in post after post about his mountains of cash and all the flashy things he had planned for said mountains. It was both boring and irritating, so we parted ways. I did not feel obliged to tell him I was cutting him. My guess was that he wouldn’t notice.

But this all has me thinking of real-life friend maintenance. Because I enjoy writing, I’m known for the long, chatty emails. I know that not everyone loves to write, so I don’t expect a quid pro quo. But recently, and for the first time, I’ve been paying a little more attention to what I put out versus what I get back. I’m normally a social socialist. I give what I’ve got to offer and take whatever is offered in return with little attention to balance. But two friends (who shall go unnamed) who’ve repeatedly and egregiously dropped the ball this year have brought the issue into relief. I can’t claim I don’t have any hard feelings, but I can honestly say that I don’t feel badly hurt or anything like upset. But I also feel comfortable at this point withdrawing. Not in a dramatic way. Not in a way that seeks to change their behavoir. And the truth is that if either friend would read what I’m writing now, s/he would be sad and ashamed and disappointed. Both of these people are grade A, really.

Maybe it’s because I’m married now, although I hope that’s not it. But I’m clearly moving into a time when I’m going to need to see adequate (which is, of course, totally subjective) efforts made in order to sustain my friendships. And of course I understand that time and circumstances change people’s ability to be there. And that’s cool. Whether it’s fair or not, I also apply different standards to different people? Got a kid? Then you’ll get a ton of slack from me. To a certain extent, existing friends are grandfathered in. Let’s say I’m still willing to do more of the work much of the time, just not most or all of the work. But new people in my life are facing a higher standard. I find myself avoiding deeper acquaintance with people who look like they will be needy of a lot of attention. I take this as an indication that I will wind up an emotional wet nurse if I stick around. And I don’t want to do that for someone who I don’t believe could/would do it for me.

I feel just self righteous enough about all of the above to know that I actually feel a bit guilty about it.

I’m trying to restrain myself from writing a thousand caveats. I’m lucky to have most of my friends. I don’t need a ton of attention. I don’t think what I have to offer is particularly special or better than what anyone else has to offer. Etc. Etc. Etc.

Today at work I tuned into a conversation happening in the hallway between Alyssa and Seth. I heard, “Jillian will know that.”

And I puffed up just a little bit. I’m definitely the odd person out, as everyone on staff is working on the magazine (or “book”) except for me. I mean, I write/edit one page.

So I’m thinking: This is great, they’re going to come to me for an answer for something. They respect me. They think I can be helpful to them.

As I’m straightening up in my chair, they walk into my office and Alyssa says, “Hey Jillian, is ‘Lost’ new tonight?”

And I know that I’m just a dork doing stuff on the internet.

But that’s okay. I did manage to slip in that I think Claire’s story had better be good, because I think she’s a real whiner.

Tonight we’re having spaghetti and (fake) meatballs for dinner with a nice green salad. My little Italian heart is so happy.