I've started a Boston Bucket List for myself. I basically feel that I get to start of fall year after year and feel really disappointed in the summer that just flew by. Not this year. I'm going to go to outdoor concerts and movies, art shows, museums, etc.
My friend Ben joined me last night to the ICA in Boston, which is free on Thursdays, open later and has a band playing outside too. As we approached the building, it looked unimpressive. And quiet. And empty. Hm. Then we walked around back where the building faces the water and the band was hopping and the crowd was full. Ben and I looked at each other, minds sort of blown.
Inside, we both especially liked this one installation. A room of videos playing simultaneously. Each video was of a different musician and they were all playing music together, being recorded at the same time, in different rooms in a large home. As you approached each screen, a speaker brought you closer to that particular musician and you could hear them more than the others. Switch screens and you heard that musician more clearly.
There was the guitarist sitting on a bed which had a woman laying in it, the guy in the tub, a group on a porch (listening to the process being recorded inside), the accordion playing who sort-or writhed her way through the song, the tall creepy many on all black who appeared to have no eyebrows.
The lullaby jam session, which went on for about an hour, was slow and lonely and pretty.
As for the rest of the museum, Ben said it best when he looked at one piece "It's cool! Is it art? I'm not so sure."
I feel bad for Ben, really. I have few single friends. One has a young son, and one has a boyfriend now (so single...but not really). So Ben is my go-to for my fun summer adventures both because he's great company and because, at the moment, he's available more often than other friends are.
The reason I feel bad for Ben is that I struggle to edit my thoughts and my thoughts lately have been fairly intense, if not downright Debby Downerish. I realized last night when I got home that this is, to be perfectly honest, because I am really lonely. So he's stuck listening to my wet-mop moping (must work on that)
Single like me, Ben is looking to find someone. His advantages in this arena are A) He's optimistic about the process, not beaten down by years and years of trying and failing. and B) His prospects are good. It's just fact; there are far more women out there looking for love than men and as such his odds are better than mine. Think about it, how many men in their 40s do you know who are single and unhappy about it? None. Because they can find someone with ease. Women? There's a sea of us trying to find our person and failing.
Much like the dying off of honey bees, this is a mystery to all. Just the other day Lauren was telling me that she knows five women who are all catches and still involuntarily single.
So last night I arrived home feeling really sad. I spent my evening with an romantically optimistic person, which is great, but it also amplified my hopelessness somehow and it made me feel like I was super-shitty company. I just spent the night watching either lots of other people in relationships, or tons of women all younger and skinnier and prettier than I am looking around and trying to find someone themselves.
I haven't shaken off the feeling today. I can tell because, well, I can feel feelings for a start, but also because I'm being really friendly to others, which is what I do when I'm sad because I think to myself, maybe they're sad too, and someone smiling at them and being friendly will help them feel better.
I loathe this feeling. It's so self-deprecating. So whiny. I want so much to feel worthy of something great and open to it's possibility. And not so lonely all the time even when I'm surrounded by people and good company.
I want more little magical things to happen and I want to be more open to witness them. Like this little snippet. Everyday stuff that makes me smile.
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