I’ve had a number of social awakenings lately. As I have been frustrated with the people around me and my inability to connect with those I desire to befriend, I’ve learned a lot about my own misconceptions on communication. Now I realize that what makes a good friend isn’t having common interests but having and expressing genuine interest in one another. Last weekend I met up with an out-of-town friend. We met in person, at work of all places, about four years ago but soon after then he moved to another city and our correspondences have been primarily through e-mails that at best are daily though sometimes wane to weekly. We grew up in different cultures, have very dissimilar tastes (on music, movies, entertainment, etc.), and our views (on religion, success, art, relationships, etc.) and goals, despite how parallel they run, are actually quite different in practice. But despite our contrasts, over the years we’ve become surprisingly strong inspirations in one another’s lives: as I admire him for his versatility and drive, he admires me for my passion for learning and self-improvement. When we disagree with each other, we never really argue or debate, but just openly share our opinions. We delight in learning about each other because our contrasting views on life give us perspectives we’d otherwise miss out on.
On the other hand, a few years ago I met a guy with very similar tastes and I’ve had a horrible time trying to figure out why we never seemed to click. We met because we kept showing up to the same films and noticing one another in the audience (as movies I go to are very rarely crowded… and by crowded I mean more than fifteen people). We started writing these elaborate e-mails to each other about our mutual passion for cinema, but our personal lives always stayed backseat. Even when we met in person, it would always be to see a film, and if we did anything afterwards our conversations would mostly pertain to discussions on cinema. It wasn’t just an evasion of other subjects, but our complete lack of connection on a more personable level. He would always behave very formal and well-mannered, always shaking hands with people he’d meet, using his full (first and last) name anytime he left a message on my voicemail, and even though I’d be coming from work and he’d be coming from class, our dress would always imply the opposite. When I’d make sarcastic responses in jest, he’d apologize thinking he’d offended me in some way, pinning us in a rather awkward moment. In the whole time that I've known him, I've never once heard him really let out a laugh, and it’s not just some failing on my part; I've never seen him really let loose with his other friends either. Talking about film was the only way we knew how to connect, and I could never figure out how he could act so uptight and well, nerdy, yet enjoy many subversive and transgressive film works as well as being so broadminded. He graduated earlier this year and just recently moved to another city (taking my Bresson book and a handful of my DVDs with him!). I have a feeling we’ll still keep in touch over the years though contact will probably be sporadic and very rare. Even if we lived in the same city though, I doubt anymore would come of us than acquaintanceship.
Of course these two aren’t all-encompassing cases, just recent observations.
I have one more entry left in my lessons on personal communication series and then I’ll move on to other topics. Actually, I have a whole prioritized list of topics I've been really anxious to write about, but my moodiness has been causing them to be on indefinite delay.
On the other hand, a few years ago I met a guy with very similar tastes and I’ve had a horrible time trying to figure out why we never seemed to click. We met because we kept showing up to the same films and noticing one another in the audience (as movies I go to are very rarely crowded… and by crowded I mean more than fifteen people). We started writing these elaborate e-mails to each other about our mutual passion for cinema, but our personal lives always stayed backseat. Even when we met in person, it would always be to see a film, and if we did anything afterwards our conversations would mostly pertain to discussions on cinema. It wasn’t just an evasion of other subjects, but our complete lack of connection on a more personable level. He would always behave very formal and well-mannered, always shaking hands with people he’d meet, using his full (first and last) name anytime he left a message on my voicemail, and even though I’d be coming from work and he’d be coming from class, our dress would always imply the opposite. When I’d make sarcastic responses in jest, he’d apologize thinking he’d offended me in some way, pinning us in a rather awkward moment. In the whole time that I've known him, I've never once heard him really let out a laugh, and it’s not just some failing on my part; I've never seen him really let loose with his other friends either. Talking about film was the only way we knew how to connect, and I could never figure out how he could act so uptight and well, nerdy, yet enjoy many subversive and transgressive film works as well as being so broadminded. He graduated earlier this year and just recently moved to another city (taking my Bresson book and a handful of my DVDs with him!). I have a feeling we’ll still keep in touch over the years though contact will probably be sporadic and very rare. Even if we lived in the same city though, I doubt anymore would come of us than acquaintanceship.
Of course these two aren’t all-encompassing cases, just recent observations.
I have one more entry left in my lessons on personal communication series and then I’ll move on to other topics. Actually, I have a whole prioritized list of topics I've been really anxious to write about, but my moodiness has been causing them to be on indefinite delay.
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