My journey making a new friend, my struggle to balance friendship and a brotherly bond. These are my invaluable experiences. This blog is intended to organize my feelings as I begin my friendship with my new little, who I will call Tommy for the purpose of this blog.

My friend gave me a jar to put on my shelf where I could place my most valued ideas. I should just screw off the top and there in I would plop all of my thoughts. They would cascade into this jar of mine, whirling and spinning around.

But before I could twist off this top to plop my very own opinions and ideas, I had to listen to my friend’s thoughtless thoughts. For his are grossly graver than any wishes of miniscule me. Twist went the lid and out he let slid all what could have been my precious impressions and aims. Then all that I knew was what he put into my jar of a friend’s ideas.

On my shelf it now sits with the crumbling cork covering what I could never put in. My abandoned eyes gaze with an unworried head haze fixed on this sated jar. Shallow and silly it seems nay knowing ones own dreams. I’m watching others’ dreams spinning and twirling on my shelf in a jar.

Thursday, February 11, 2010

First Impressions

The first few weeks went by much smoother than I thought they would. The selection process was a breeze. He likes football. I like football. He likes wrestling. I like wrestling. He has been having some trouble at school. Not so much me. He lives with a single parent. Not so much me either. I was nervous when he greeted me at his school. We exchanged glances and after that I think it was a mutual decision to continue on together. A nod would have been uncomfortably appropriate. He was jumpy. Couldn’t sit still through the chaperoned “first encounter”. He was angry too. He told me so. Its okay I said. That’s why we play football. That’s why we hang out. A tour now. I got to meet his favorite teachers. Two of them. Both calm and effortlessly patient. Both easy to talk to and eloquent and soft spoken and lovely. I understood why he loved them. They were motherly. He toured me around his school. I felt like a dad being welcomed into his son’s life for the first time. A dad who thinks the lamest things are cool like the home-ec room or the paintings on the wall or the English room with Twain quotes everywhere, all over the walls. I would have to suppress these feelings, I felt, if we were to become friends, the friend that we both needed. He loves to play video games. That’s going to change I said to myself. Not very productive if you ask me but I wouldn’t tell a friend that would I? For the first day I would oblige him. I showed him a team game I knew online. I didn’t let him win. I thought of it as a first lesson. He laughed though; He’s already different than my eternally competitive friends. We played until the clock hit three and he would have to walk me to the front office. I had to sign in and out with an unpleasant lady, the definition of a practiced smile. Like taking your senior pictures when you’re grumpy. That smile was lame. I told him to think of activities for the next week. I couldn’t think of anything cool to say. My armpits were sweaty. I think he saw them. He’s a good foot and a half shorter than me, of course he saw. With an exhausted conscience and a wet lower back we said bye. At least I didn’t call him Jobin or something. First impression in the funniest sense: A blind man-date that went very well. First impression realistically: Astoundingly heart wrenching and powerful. I’ll be back next week.

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