In Low Places

I had gone up to New York knowing my best friend Hubbard would not be there, leaving me and the other guys to entertain ourselves. On previous occasions I had hung out with them. I met Rockhard and Mike back in Pensacola, and Avery was always around whenever I'd make the 3-hour trek to the greatest city on Earth, but our times together were always with Hubbard. Hubbard was not only the mutual friend, but also the connection. I didn't know these guys outside the Hubbard context, and I knew this weekend would give me a better idea of who these guys are to me.

... by the time I awoke at noon to Rockhard still coming up with ways to stick the word "bukkake" into everyday vernacular, I knew I enjoyed these guys with or without Hubbard. It only took one night of booze, music, and talks of bukkake. Hubbard was no longer the connection. We had our own.

On each drive back from New York I'm planning my next trip up. At first it was for the family and the city. Now it's also for the friends. Many of my favorite people in the world now live in that city, people I would be proud to introduce to my family, though my family already has blood relations to many of them. They're people I can show all my sides to. Everyone from Emotional Anthony to Obnoxious Asshole Anthony can come out uncensored to these friends.

It's something I feel missing in Harrisburg.

My ultimate prediacament in Harrisburg is meeting people like those in New York, people I can be myself around while also getting a lot in return. With my schedule and unfamiliarity to the area, the only people I've tended to meet are the people in my program. With a small program, you're supposed to create a tight-knit group. You can relate to each other, have some preestablished common interests, and can provide support for each other, because you've been there (or rather, you are there).

However, when I step outside the classroom, the last thing I want to talk about and surround myself with is the subject matter that encompasses my every aching study hour. My academics and my work are not my life, and I never want them to be. I love too many things on this Earth to have my life summed up in a single subject. But the easy way to make conversation with people you know little about is to talk about the little that you actually know about each other; in this case, we all relate to each other's experiences in clinical psychology.

The problem is, if you rely on a single crutch to guide conversation with someone you barely know, you never get off, and in the end, you still know very little about the person.

I'm not saying that I don't use the crutch; I talk about clinical psychology every day too. I'm not saying that my complexity is unique; I'm sure 99% of these people have substantial lives our studies can't come close to simplifying. What I'm saying is that I spend most of my time with these people, but they're not seeing the true me. They're giving me only one side of them, and I give them only one side of me. The setting we're in promotes that, and the setting is most of what I know in Harrisburg.

I'd say there's only one person in Pennsylvania who sees the real Anthony. I'd like there to be more. I'd like to figure out a way to change that. In the meantime, my next trip to New York is in 3 weeks.