Clareified

Where does the good go

It’s four in the morning…the end of December…

Okay, it’s not really four. It’s closer to seven. I’m watching the sunrise on the last day of 2007. And I hope to watch it set later tonight.
I went to church this morning. It was the feast of families. The church was filled with toddlers and newborns getting baptised and mothers and fathers and it really seemed to be a fitting way for me to spend the last days of 2007.
These are the kind of years they make critically acclaimed indie films that leave you scratching your head, while the screenwriter wins an Academy award and signs a three picture deal with Miramax, so she never has to work in a law firm again. Oh, sorry, did I type that out loud?
What a year.
I spent nearly everyday in pain. I cried more this year than I have in all my previous 29 years combined and well, I used to be a crier, so that’s saying something. There were lies and heartbreak and betrayal…and that’s just my feelings about the underwhelming second season of Heroes.
But the truth is, it was a big growing year for me.
Buffy once said “the hardest thing in this world is to live in it.” Honestly, I had managed to not live in it for a very long time, but between regular poker games, going to Scrabble tournaments and living with my cellphone stapled to my fingers, this year I probably had the most intricate social network of my entire life.
And while Fisch never tires of telling me that friends aren’t family, they are friends. And in some ways that makes them the family that you choose.
There was a whole month or so when Karol and I didn’t speak. Neither of us wrote about it, so very few people knew, which is funny considering how publicly we both lead our lives, but our cellphone carriers were immediately concerned and sent us desperate letters pleading for a reconciliation. “If you don’t return to your previous airtime usage, the terrorists win,” one letter boldly, and I think inappropriately, proclaimed.
I don’t really remember what made everything good again, but we now have an almost daily conversation that goes something like:
Karol: Where did I find you?
Me: On a BUS! Give me another one. That was easy.
A subtle reminder that even though she’s horrible in every way and I, like the Patriots, am way way better and hotter and undefeated, we’ll always be part of each other’s lives.
We actually have about five conversations that we have verbatim on a regular basis, which then lead to the very good “dude…why are we scripting conversations for ourselves, instead of doing something meaningful with our lives?” conversation.
A conversation which, of course, was never finished because we hadn’t scripted it yet and well, because the “on a bus” one is just way funnier.
But there are few people I could see drag racing down the street at 12 miles an hour with or drive by museum visiting…oh and congratulations about Claudio’s promotion.
Ari used to joke that she thought Fisch was dead when I didn’t write about him in more than two days, and for a good part of this year that would have been a fair guess. I can’t think of anyone that I spent more time with on mindless frivolities that somehow turned into battles to the death.
(I won the movie tonight.)
And I don’t know how I make it through this year without the months of Scrabble, TV watching, oneuppersonship and the Saw trilogy. Though, I could have done without the four hundred years of reading Games of Thrones, what felt like twenty years of watching the wire and the Dumb, idiotic two hours of watching dumb and dumber.
Fisch and I also have our routines. Every week or so we’d go to this diner out in Random Avenue Brooklyn. The place was virtually empty by three or four in the morning when we’d go, which was good because it would take him an hour to order eggs and toast in his own specifically peculiar way. The last time we were there, Fisch left to pay the check and the waitress came over to me and said “I just want you to know that watching the two of you made my day. You just seem like you’re great friends.”
I laughed, especially since he had been making fun of her handicapped leg all through the meal, but also because even though Fisch is mean and evil and says horrible things like “I trained you to be a tough nemesis who I beat most of the time,” I think the waitress had it right. At least, we are on alternate Mondays not in November or December.
After a lifetime of fighting the damsel in distress stereotypes, I am finally willing to accept some help from a stupid boy, or as I like to think of it, I decided to allow him the privilege of carrying my cases of seltzer water.
Then of course, there was Pi and pearatty who cooked for me during my postop. And Kaz and F-train and Ugarles and Mary, who came over to keep me company when I was sure my mother was trying to kill me. And Tito for making the key lime pie and Kaz for flying cross country to make me one for my birthday. And Ari for introducing me to How I Met Your Mother. And the Tom Brady jersey. It propelled them through their last two regular season games, I am sure of it. And Alceste for his unique way of making sure I’m not the most evil person in a room.
And Jake, whose email about how surgery is just the first step to wellness was something I thought about over and over.
And KJ, who, we’ll say wins Rookie Clareified person of the year for the way who really took to my training him on how to take care of my apartment. Oh, and for carrying the microwave.
Grin.
So, yes, I know my friends aren’t my family (particularly that Fisch isn’t my father) and I’ve been around long enough to know that we might not always see each other as frequently as we do now, or talk on the phone everyday…the weekly poker games are themselves already a distant memory and a few of you have already begun to fade from my life as you make new lives with your girlfriends and money pit mansions, but for this one moment in time, at least, we were friends.
And you were my world.

13 Responses to “It’s four in the morning…the end of December…”

  1. F-Train Says:

    And here I was just thinking last night, “Hmm, I haven’t seen Dawn in a while.” This can be remedied easily enough.

    Happy New Year. Have fun in Aussie-land.

  2. Casca Says:

    How did it end? I fell asleep.

  3. Ugarles Says:

    It ended without her thanking you.

  4. kj Says:

    My highlight of 2007 was me chasing you down the cashier at the Hilton the first day we met (…and I don’t chase girls). Whether for the best or the worst, I will never regret this day. Happy New Year Dawn!!!

    -the rookie of the year.

  5. Dawn Summers Says:

    Aww, you’re so adorable. Good thing I was full of Irish whiskey and easy to catch. 😉

  6. Fisch Says:

    Awww, of course I’m gonna love this post, it loved me. In fact, yea, this is probably your finest work, other than my birthday post of course.

    Oh, and “oneuppersonship” kind of denotes that we took turns one-upping one another, doesn’t it? Better think of another word. (See, like just now, that wasn’t turns.)

    Thanks for getting me through Oakland, Dawn.

    -not your father

  7. Dawn Summers Says:

    “I dare you to get married.” Yeah, you’re right, there’s no oneupmanship. I won.

  8. Fisch Says:

    I feel like the end of the usual suspects when it all comes to make sense to the cop..noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

  9. Ugarles Says:

    Come on, Fisch, do it! One of us… one of us…

  10. Karol Says:

    Wow, how did I miss this post? You’re all “comment” and I keep visiting Clareified and thinking “I commented on everything already, blat.”

    I found you on a bus and now I’m stuck with you forever. Wicked awesome!

  11. Karol Says:

    Also, I’m not fading, you doofus. And it’s only a money room, not a whole mansion. You’re still the spouse.

  12. Karol Says:

    BTW, I introduced you to both the title song and to Fisch so I think next year my paragraph should be longer with more references to my beauty, brains and general awesomeness. Go Cowboys!

  13. Gerard Says:

    Friends aren’t family.

    No, sometimes they’re better.

    Boldog Uj Evet!

    :)

    -good times, G.

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