The original entry

I admit my default appears to be criticism. Understand this comes from envy that you have experiences and friends from which I am alienated and annoyance you lack the capacity and perspective to allow you to understand your good fortune. It is not perfect by any stretch; only some of this is your fault. Factors outside your control -- financial, mental, and social -- impede a life closer to your ideal. Still, the good outweighs the bad, and you have the inherent myopia of a suburban man who is not yet legal drinking age. I covet that shortsightedness, finding that even your feigned world-weariness passes close to an innocence forever lost. Let it not seem that I do not have things for which you would gladly trade. I have a wife who exceeds what you can imagine for a partner. I have literary success -- if not necessarily acclaim. I have imperfect mental and emotional stability, but it exceeds yours by so significant a margin that I do not feel too strange criticizing you. I understand why you weep midway through birthday parties and no longer do -- though perhaps I have a better cause.

You should be overjoyed you will grow into me, though I can still regret you did not do so sooner and with less pain.

She suggested coming late and bringing an angry, drunken punk (her description) that would yell at my guests and not get along with anyone. I vetoed that idea as I like my guests.

Kate does have peculiar ideas for what would constitute fun to you.

And I again reminded her that I was not allowing alcohol at my party, this too seemed to come as a shock to her.

You are still a prig. What do you care if someone has a beer? Drunkenness could become burdensome to you since the party would become more about ensuring that person behaved, but prohibition is unnecessary. I assure you, I have had many parties where alcohol was present. No one was the worse for it.

She brightened for a moment when I mentioned that Sarah jokingly suggested that they smoke up together. It has been suggested that Kate intentionally forgot about the party because it would not involve drugs and alcohol.

I won't say this is impossible, but choose to believe it is not what happened.

Zack, as well, was unable to attend, much as he wanted to. He was required at the last minute to go to Indiana with his family, the purpose of which I did not learn.

What's funny is that he moved to Indiana one night without letting most people know. It's not foreshadowing but it still made me laugh.

Sarah, I regret to inform you, was also unable to attend. Her friend and ride grew very ill on the day of the party, effectively stranding Sarah at home and reassuring me that forces were keeping her and me apart.

I won't say this is impossible, but choose to believe it is not what happened.

She told me with certainty that we would be together before Christmas. We shall see.

You aren't.

Conor, Flynn, Emily's middle school friend Jerame [sic], his girlfriend Anne, Emily's friend Kelly, Stevehen, Tina, Melissa, Liz, Emily and me.

I cannot guarantee this is the first time Stevehen and Melissa met. They did not, to my knowledge, take a particular liking to or notice of one another this night. Still, it is as though I am seeing the murderer and the victim (I won't ascribe one role to either) chatting in the background of a scene an hour before one of them is bleeding out on the carpet.

Melissa regaled the assembled throng with stories involving Glade, her self-immolation, and a four-year-old girl. Her method of story telling had us all in stitches and hanging on her every word.

(I responded to this, but retelling my version of this story was over 2000 words and will make a better story for my author site.)

All of us sitting around this smoldering grill, huddled for warmth and companionship, listening to an effective story-teller... it was timeless, in a way, and very modern in another.

It's hard not to love something so inherent to the human experience.

This provoke others to share their fire related stories, such as how Emily once blew up her garage when she was a teenager by placing her chemistry set in the microwave.

Wow, what a story. It's funny Emily's parents never mentioned this.

Emily, too, is a master storyteller, though with fewer press clippings to corroborate.

This might be among the reasons that Melissa came to hate Emily, though she didn't show it much until after the breakup.

Emily stated today that she felt that this was a perfect meshing of people. Zack is the only guest that didn't come that we felt would have meshed instantly and easily with the rest of the party.

You could reliably throw most of your friends together for a few years, and the interactions would be worthwhile.

If you remained friends with most of those people -- and you don't -- I don't know that they would still have sparkled together.

Emily was an excellent social lubricant and seemed to like most people she did not see as competition.

I could not tell how Sarah would have changed the party, as I have not seen the lass for nigh onto three years.

She would have tried to dominate it and your attention. When she couldn't, she would have become bored and tried to get Melissa to smoke with her.

She is less mystical than you let on.

As for Kate... we were not certain. We could see her meshing well, enjoying the atmosphere and vibe of the party. We could also see her complaining at the lack of illicit substances or volunteering more nostalgic, less appropriate drug stories that would not have amused anyone.

Yes, that's more likely at this point in your friendship. Kate would have tried to goad you because she thinks it is funny.

She would otherwise have followed Sarah's path above.

There we ignored Coley and her boyfriend when they came in (Emily stated that her boyfriend seemed ridiculous and pretentious, though she may have just been trying to do the supportive girlfriend thing). They may have actually fled, as we did not encounter them again and were there for a goodly amount of time.

Here is everything I can come up with that would constitute why you behave this way with Coley. (Do not misconstrue what I am saying. You are not necessarily justified in thinking this, but you do believe it. These points are interrelated, of course.)

• You both might still be a little in love, given that you were exes who might have worked out in better circumstances and did not. You did cheat on her by kissing Jen several times. She is allowed some grudge there.
• In an extension of the former point, you repeatedly made clear that you do not like her boyfriend. He seems predatory to you -- a much older man initially hitting on a seventeen-year-old girl -- and he sent you pictures of other women with whom he slept, possibly to impress or intimidate you. He also tried to include you by name on his websites, even when you asked him not to. (Yes, you mentioned him, but not by name or pseudonym.) Under the best of circumstances, you might not have cared for him, but that amplified when he snapped up Coley when you were considering maybe asking her if she might possibly think about dating you again. (Third time's the charm, right? You dated Kate instead, and I am not sorry for that relationship.) Coley was committed to him. Your distaste for him was unforgivable, even if his feelings for you were no more fond. She would not have chosen your side.
• She had allied with a woman who had tried to sexually assault/harass you then defamed you to all and sundry, largely because this woman ran the local Rocky Horror Picture Show shadow cast. You could more than forgive that she was friends with Nick and Jen -- you had been best friends with them through most of high school, even if they broke your heart when she left you for him -- but could not believe that what this woman did to you (and others) did not matter to her. Coley now runs this shadow cast after decades of devotion.
• Someone told you that Coley had felt up Jen, asleep at the time, while you were dating her. I do not know that this contained even a mote of truth. More than likely, the person thought this would make you feel vindicated, though I am not sure how it would have helped anything. It did not upset you since (if it were true) Jen was the one affected and had to reconcile how to feel about it.
• Neither of you said to the other that you cared about the other person any longer. You did. Though it was largely platonic, you think Coley is one of the better people you know, even if she espouses hating you. She is kind, talented, intelligent, sweet, and spiritual. You would have been overjoyed if you could be friends with her, but process the inability to bridge this gap through irritability. I wish you had said, "Listen, Coley. Things might have turned out differently if I had sense, but I do not regret knowing you now. I cannot ask you to forgive me for my misbehaviors, but I could not forgive myself if I let you believe for a second that I didn't care for you and wish we could again be friends. I am sorry I made you think otherwise and didn't try to fix it sooner." But you won't because that is too vulnerable, and you are terrified that she could reject you worse than saying she hates you.
• She was tetchy about your being appointed the president of Pagans United for Religious Education at Dutchess, even though the only reason you had the role was so something could be put on the student activity sheet; you were not meant to have actual duties. The club was egalitarian by design. You were startled to find she expected you to lead it and sniped that you hadn't.
• I am not sure this happened yet, but someone from her circle posted a vague "Hey, we are looking for new members" to the Mid-Hudson Pagan Network. You suggested they give MHPN more information (where they practiced, what tradition, what flavor of circle, etc.) You received a message from the original sender -- a woman in her forties -- telling you that you were explicitly not welcome because people in the circle hated you. You were not interested in joining -- you do not like being a part of circles -- and had not expressed otherwise. You were trying to help her attract interest and answer questions before the members of MHPN could ask them. It seemed so petty and hurtful for no reason. Why belong to the Mid-Hudson Pagan Network if they held such enmity toward you?

That amounts to paragraphs, but it still feels empty when it boils down to the fact that you want to be her friend and cannot be brave enough to do the work that might let it happen.

Stevehen was teasing me about how vocal Coley's hatred of me is. Glad to see that I left an impression, I suppose, though I wish she'd pick a new point of random hatred.

Is it random? I've given sound reasons on both sides.

I am considering that, yet again, I am in the wrong major.

You are, at least at New Paltz, and finish with an English degree because the program overhauls its requirements and wants the education majors to spend an extra year to get a bachelor's; it is not a well-run department.

The stereotype thrives at New Paltz of Long Island princesses who want to sit backward in a chair and tell urban youth that Shakespeare was a real OG. The department suits most who pay for classes.

I find fellow education majors bloody annoying and/or bloody stupid.

They are. However, your "I don't want to belong to any club that would have me as a member" attitude is beneath you. You are not there to make friends -- though you might if you would unclench -- only to get a degree you think is the Responsible Choice. You would really like to be a full-time writer or possibly a psychologist. Those make intuitive sense to you in a way that education departments do not. That doesn't mean education doesn't make sense to you, as it is a lower-paid blend of those two disciplines. You excel once you adopt a demeanor of "I have the degree and knowledge, and I do not give half a damn what you think. I am much weirder than you can process, I have permanency, and I want to educate you purely so I will be less bored, and you will be less boring. So, sit or don't, but I am about to explain how Edgar Allan Poe died and who the Poe Toaster is."

I maintain that I do not want to be in any classroom where I am not paid. I am ravenous to teach myself. I will spend hours pouring over hundreds of pages of primary documents, news articles, autopsy reports, and court records to find some morsels. I can intuit most subjects I am told to teach students. However, I become surly and impatient when I am on the other side of a desk. Few can teach at a pace that matches my curiosity or keep me interested long enough that I wouldn't rather read a book on the topic. I've had maybe five teachers who had me riveted and working. Many others handed me printed PowerPoint slides, put up the slides on the board, then read what was written on them for four hours -- something I dearly wish was an exaggeration.

Also, you use "bloody" too much. You are not a Brit, and it is not a pleasant affectation.

I would not want a goodly number of these people teaching my enemies' children, let alone my own.

This and my aversion to being taught are not unrelated.

Case in point, I just got out of a class where a girl who wants to be an English teacher told the class that she hates writing and only likes to read trashy romances.

I reference her still as one of the problems with education. I am sure she is reading PowerPoint slides of worksheets to doodling kids as I write this.

Don a pointed hat and learn how to say, "Where is the Mop-N-Glo?" because you will otherwise be a huge detriment to the children unfortunate enough to have to endure you.

Don't be classist. Janitors have done more for the world than most teachers.

In my American Lit class, Geeky Stalker Girl (she stares at me incessantly) tries to relate every story to rape.

Ooh. I want to know more about this. This means you will probably never mention her again, despite giving her a nickname. Why is she looking? What do you think her intentions are? Are you somehow attractive to this poor creature? Do you have spinach in your teeth? We don't know because you didn't tell us.

People don't actually want to learn anymore. They want to be vindicated.

You could eliminate that "anymore." (For the sake of brevity, let's knock out that "actually" while we are editing.)

You are not going to love social media, which typifies this.

Meanwhile, no one with actual opinions has the chance to speak because Anally Retentive Girl is forcing the teacher to give her the Webster's Dictionary definition of "smart"

How many people in my life have I utterly forgotten, but I fear I will always remember this young woman and her proud mop of auburn curls shaking with indignity that the seventy-year-old, balding pan-European professor has no tolerance for her?

(See, Younger Thomm, that's how you describe things.)

You know that I have hordes of opinion and insight, else there would be little point in my writing so much and your actually being interested in what I am saying.

I would be more interested if you directed your literary camera better. Focus it better on things worthy of recording.

We can almost forgive the slopped-on lens-Vasoline of your opinions. You are nearly a child and have yet to learn better. That doesn't render your insights more captivating.

I think I would be at my happiest taking psychology and theater classes all day. Writing research papers and critiques of plays.

Yeah, that's the dream.

I don't do theater any longer. I have sacrificed most things on the altar of my writing. I would write a play in a few weeks if requested, though not a musical. I will not be staying up until midnight for rehearsals.

I think I have the ever so noble and quite possibly erroneous belief that, in teaching high school students English, I will change their lives.

I cannot be sure you believe this. I won't say that you don't, but the idealism of it doesn't match what I know about you.

Your parents wanted you to be a teacher. You wanted to write and talk about books. That you thought teachers were well taken care of per benefits and retirement undoubtedly contributed.

You assumed you would have a teaching job immediately upon receiving your degree (your master's since, as covered, New Paltz screws up your ability to graduate on time if you stuck with their program). The world doesn't need new English teachers. When it does, it will be the young lady who hates books, not some man with hair to the middle of his back who cannot figure out how to dress professionally, one who is anxious until he is left alone with a classroom.

So, you take the safe bet and suffer for it.

Some copycat raging student whose parents overmedicated him may also shoot me in the head.

One thing I can say about working in a high-security juvenile detention facility: it's nearly impossible for a mass shooting!

Also, you best stop pathologizing psychiatric medication. You need some.

I do not know what will bring the most joy into my life, what I will be most fulfilled spending my days on.

Writing.

What you do for money and what you do for joy do not necessarily have to overlap.

That being said, I've made five figures writing. It is not remotely commensurate with my effort, but I was going to write anyway.

I graduate from the edifice of higher learning and... actually, I hope to move onto a higher edifice of learning to obtain a Master's in Psychology.

One tends to get a master's in something pertaining to one's undergrad.

And you don't.

Because you think teaching is safer.

Even when they are twice or thrice my score of years, the other students in my classes behave as daft lab monkeys or sugar-rushed tattletales from the elementary school playground.

Your style of writing is affected and grating.

take the bloody state test and become a teacher... oh, you can't because the department seems to think that this person who has been teaching the class has something valuable to impart upon you?

They may have credentials, but that doesn't mean they are teachers.

Hey, you had science teachers at Dutchess who knew the material but did not have the slightest idea how to convey it to a room of students. You have witnessed that professors are not to be trusted implicitly.

Not that we should trust your classmates for education, many of whom are around as obnoxious as you are.

I think I would feel a lot better if I could find something to like about more people in my classes.

So try. Put in that effort. Stop being reactively prickly. I am sure there are plenty who would be wonderful to get to know, but you won't try.

I feel that I have grown very judgmental and misanthropic.

Yes, that is the point I am getting at.

So, please do something about it. If you identify a problem and only use it to complain further, it is no better than being ignorant of one's flaws.

They do not wish to actually think, just be good little automatons and lead lives of quiet desperation.

Then lead by example, buddy. Stop your constant fixation outward. Do your inner work because you will not find your bliss in sniping at adjectively-related strangers.

They duct tape flags onto their back windows so they cannot see out of their cars

You don't look better is someone else's lack of self-reflection.

They are traumatized, and their response to that is overcorrection and tribalism. Be sympathetic, but keep your distance.

Bin Ladin is not a county we can bomb, but people refuse to actually consider this point because that would require them to show a shred of humanity and forethought. Jingoistic nationalism isn't the solution, it is what caused the terrorists to crash into the WTC in the first place.

Fine. In this one situation, you are not wrong. I am not fond of your framing. I know you are afflicted by assuming you are in the spotlight, but this doesn't concern you directly.

See, here I am judging. I don't want that, but people disappoint me so much.

If you don't want that, don't do it. You are the only one in control of your reactions.

Is it wrong that I expect them to behave in a higher manner?

It is naive and arrogant.

So, I have returned to hating humans and making frequent exceptions on an individual basis. And I weep for this, because I want to love them and cannot. This may be my failing.

It is one among many.

---

Thomm Quackenbush is an author and teacher in the Hudson Valley. He has published four novels in his Night's Dream series (We Shadows, Danse Macabre, Artificial Gods, and Flies to Wanton Boys). He has sold jewelry in Victorian England, confused children as a mad scientist, filed away more books than anyone has ever read, and tried to inspire the learning disabled and gifted. He is capable of crossing one eye, raising one eyebrow, and once accidentally groped a ghost. When not writing, he can be found biking, hiking the Adirondacks, grazing on snacks at art openings, and keeping a straight face when listening to people tell him they are in touch with 164 species of interstellar beings. He likes when you comment.