This year, in an attempt to lead through example, I started my session by proclaiming I would not only be facilitating, but would also be participating in this session.
"My goal," I announced, ripping a piece of "Post-It" paper from the easel, "Is to become a better friend."
A girl in the back raised her hand.
"That's a terrible goal. How will you measure it?"
Miscreant.
"Well, first of all. We do not use words like 'terrible' at leadership camp. Constructive criticism only."
God, I'm good.
"OK, then. Your goal lacks clarity. Do you need friends?"
"I need to reconnect with my friends. Look, I'll work this out. Everyone get to work mapping your goals.
"At the end," I said, suddenly hit by inspiration, "You need to draw a picture of what you'll look like when your goal is met."
"That's a terrible idea."
"Draw it? How do you draw a goal?"
"It doesn't say that in the instructions..."
Sigh.
After twenty minutes passed, I asked them each to "present" their plan to the class for feedback. When we had 10 minutes left, they asked to see my plan and subsequent picture.
I headed back to the trifold with a smug feeling of satisfaction. My picture, I felt, really sealed the deal. I had depicted, with just a red and blue marker, a Christmas party scene in my fictitious apartment. As I told the group, a full guest list would be the perfect demonstration that my efforts to reconnect with friends had, indeed, been fruitful.
I was especially proud of the sweater vest I had chosen to outfit my friend Geoff. I thought he'd be especially pleased with the J.Crew trousers I had drawn. I also liked the expression of sheer delight drawn on my friend Rachel's face as two high school buddies lifted her in a keg stand by the tiki bar.
I knew the kids would be impressed by the way I'd given my friend Daniel a look of sheer joy at my arrival with just a few crude strokes. And the way the partygoers had lifted me into the air - mosh-pit style - to convey their excitement.
I pinned the picture to the board with a flourish of confidence. When I turned around...
Silence. Pure silence.
Then, one by one, their faces collapsed into utter sadness.
"Oh my God! That is, like, the saddest picture I have ever seen!"
A chorus of "I know!!!" broke out.
"What?!?"
"That is, like, seriously sad."
"Are you kidding me?" I said, looking back to make sure I hadn't accidentally pinned some drawing of a cheetah eating an antelope. "Look! This is a totally happy picture... there's a ke... juice stand. And some charades. And look! My friend Tony is singing kareoke in with Jim from The Office."
"Oh God. That is so sad," one girl said, her blonde ponytail swinging left to right. "Do you want me to be your friend?"
"Huh?"
"Oooh! I'll be your friend too!"
"And me! And me!"
Clearly they weren't getting it. "Look," I said, pointing to the figures in the picture. "These are all my friends. I have friends."
They weren't buying it.
"Seriously. I have lots of friends... there's... eh.. Howie.. and A.J.... and Nick..."
"Aren't those the Backstreet Boys?"
God, I hated her.
"Look, it doesn't matter," I said, wondering how I had managed to both forget the names of all of my friends while recalling the names of a boyband I had scarcely listened to in high school.
I tore the picture from the pad. "Forget it," I said. "It's time for lunch..."
***
The truth is, I wasn't lying about my current state of friendless-ness. It's not that I'm friend-less, I just tend to be rather subpar at the whole friend thing. I forget to return calls. Frequently postpone plans. Sometimes I have smelly feet.
The situation only grew worse when I moved to Athens, GA, to be with my boyfriend, Jon. I loved Athens, had fond memories of driving down with my friend Thushan when we were in college to attend a journalism conference. (See, that's one!) And I loved Jon, so the move made sense.
I imagined sipping wine outside on a cool, fall night. Or sipping smoothies on College Avenue with my girlfriends. I longed for days walking down the streets of the city, laughing with friends, our shopping bags swinging side to side.
These fantasies, of course, ignored the reality of my life in Athens. I was going to follow my boyfriend, who would be working long hours as a sportswriter downtown. I didn't know anyone in Athens. And my job as a freelancer may have freed me up to keep stock of who was sleeping with who on the Young and the Restless but it certainly didn't introduce me to any people in town.
A few weeks after moving, I was sipping lattes at Starbucks on my own every day and staring at the throngs of college students with a strange feeling of longing.
Then it hit me -- why accept defeat? Why accept this state of friendless-ness?
So I made a resolution.. by the time I started applying to graduate school in the fall, I would have assembled and cultivated a flock of friends to gather round the table to toast my first acceptance letter. (Or cajole the deny-ing institutions.)
I would join organizations, start book clubs, strike up random conversations with the homeless, head to a bar on my own, and all the while, I would chronicle it for those current friends of mine (please remind me of your names) to revel in.
Along the way, I would welcome your comments, your challenges, and your general messages of support. I cannot guarantee that I'll post every day but I'll try to post a few times each week. The stories will be, I imagine, embarrassing and self-deprecating but hopefully they'll help you desk slaves through the day.
Let the search begin!
- Note: Despite what might have been suggested by the earlier described party scene, I am not, actually, friends with Jim from The Office. He was merely invited to the party as a date for my friend Rachel.
No comments:
Post a Comment