So. It finally happened. I am the proud owner of a single ticket (well, 4 quarter-tickets) to the US in May. How exciting!
Today also marks the first time that I downright refused to trust a website (a particular website, not the general concept of a website. Damn you, semantics.) to get me to my destination and actually chose a less convenient flight to avoid potential disaster. Let’s just say that a website that states that you are responsible for arranging your own travel if you fly into Charles de Gaulle (Paris) and out of Orly (also Paris), but doesn’t tell you on the purchase page whether such a transfer is going to be necessary in your particular trip, is not the travel site for me, thanks. Let’s also say that I will not be getting a lot of sleep on the night of May 7th. On the other hand, going through airport security is a lot faster at 4:30 in the morning. And the new site had infinitely fewer typos. (Not literally, because I ran into a divide by zero issue, but figuratively.)
o O o
This past weekend was positively (and delightfully) packed. Which is funny, as neither of us qualifies as a social butterfly under normal circumstances. That’s one of the best things about growing up: as you move from the local school, which throws together everyone of a given age based only on geographical location, you may get the impression that you don’t like people very much, because in a class of 15, any given interest is probably represented by a person or two at the most. (Except maybe sports, but geeks cannot live on sports alone.)
But then you go to high school, which is a little bigger. And college, which is probably even bigger. And then to your own circle in the world, which you are probably at least somewhat trained for and interested in. This is when you discover that there are, in fact, too many people in the world–in your immediate world, even–for you to be intimate friends with all of them. With the vast numbers of people you come into contact with over these years (collectively know as “the rest of your life”), the odds are much better that you will find people who share your sense of humour and at least some of your interests. (Honestly, I think shared sense of humour is the real deal-maker or breaker.) Eventually, you find your people. This is, I suspect, the real impetus behind the fact that “it gets better”.
And one day you (may) realise that you don’t necessarily dislike people as such. Just mostly. But liking some makes it considerably easier to consider liking the rest.
Of course, I haven’t interacted with anyone except my friends, people at the university, and people on the train during non-rush-hour in several days, which may be clouding my vision. Spending your day around likeable people who spend most of their time on computers skews your perception in the best way possible. The ivory tower is deceptive, yet pleasant this week. (Conversely, reading the comment thread on almost anything makes you want to kill everyone. I mostly don’t.)