Friends

I got a call from YogaGirl last night when I was putting in some time at the H4TCI. The residents were all either hanging out in their rooms -- showering at the end of the day versus the beginning of it is the most common M.O. -- or watching TV. So I took myself a dinner break, went outside on the porch and talked to her for a while.

She was weighing a question that brought up a lot of issues for both of us, I think. In finishing her internship and preparing to graduate later this summer, she is facing a dilemma: move back to the Midwest or stay here in Portland.

The debate rages around where her sense of responsibility lies and which version of a support system -- family or friends -- she'll take a chance upon. I have had this discussion with her before, but it's getting more complexed and nuanced in its examination of the issue.

Ultimately, my approach in helping her sort it out has been this: Now would be a very good time for you to consider what *you* want for yourself. Completing graduate school is a prime chance to define and cultivate a specific version of a life you *want,* rather than the one you were living before you entered into a completely new line of work. We'll be counseling people with the general aim of helping them accept themselves and be able to know what they want and have the personal resources to mainfest themselves wholly and authentically. Ought we not give ourselves the same chance to name and create the life we want? What does that look like for you?

I can't speak for YogaGirl, but man do I have dreams! I keep them to myself, mainly. One of them -- the one I love the most -- frightens me and so I barely speak of it. It is a beautiful dream, and it is fermenting nicely.

Another, perhaps my wildest, seems to be shared by YogaGirl. It gets mentioned in passing, but neither one of us seems willing to discuss the nitty-gritty details. We may both be reluctant to do so out of two fears: One, we'd never figure out how to make it work; two: we'd figure out how to make it work and then have to face whether we are bold enough to do it. I call the job "Travel Psychologist."

That's my issue. She talks about what she's going to do after graduation, and I start thinking about what my career should look like. I also think about relationships. Whether I will be solo for a long haul or find someone who really catches me (and, if the universe would *kindly* get its shit together, the feeling is mutual), and also what will become of some of the friendships I have made in school.

For YogaGirl, the question comes down to whether she should return to the Midwest to be close to her sisters and some old friends, or whether she should stay in Portland, with its network of professional contacts she's made, the support network of friends she has and her boyfriend. Not to mention its stunning geographical location. (Yes, YogaGirl, that was a marketing ploy.)

During last night's discussion, I repeated something a mutual friendly acquaintaince had told me: "Most of the friendships we make in graduate school are fake and will go away as soon as we graduate." This came up in the context of how solid friendships are, versus family connections. Both YogaGirl and I are distant from our parents. She is much closer to her sisters than I am to my siblings. But my assessment is that she and I share similar attachment issues.

I don't share the cynicism I heard in the tone of that acquaintance's comment, but I understand what she means.

I know there are many people I will not hear from after graduation, I told YogaGirl. As it is, I don't hear from them now. But there are others I believe will be friends and some who will remain members of my professional network. And then there's the category of people with question marks: These are the friends that only time will reveal. I suspect there might be a couple of those who end up sticking around.

Something I've learned from moving so much in my life -- as a child and an adult -- is that you never know who is going to stick. Sometimes, people really surprise you. The Asian is one of those people. She and I were one of the most improbable matches in the newsroom on the surface -- she younger, calmer, quieter, considerably more dignified (which people wrongly assumed meant she was easily intimidated) and me my brazen, crusty little self with my loud voice -- and yet our friendship has survived more than 10 years.

Leaving graduate school is a little like moving in some respects.

We get to know people, we work on projects, we study and talk about the same stuff, sometimes we get in each other's business, we see each other through the stressful transitions, we watch each other go through the paces of school, we socialize, eat, drink and commiserate together.

And then we graduate.

Look around at our classmates and friends. They have different goals, different specialties, different interests, different things we can tolerate. Some will go on for doctorates. Others may move away, back to the cities they left so they could study here.

Who will we still know and associate with two years from now? Five? There's no saying.

But for me, staying in town (at least as my "secure base"), is my intention for the next good long while. I want some roots. I like the friends I have, and I would enjoy keeping some of those I have made in school. S2, for obvious example, is a keeper. But as I have been cultivating some new friendships over the past year, I have in my mind a few with whom it will be my pleasure to remain connected.

Certainly, YogaGirl is one of them. (Another shameless marketing ploy.)

That would naturally conclude this piece, but I have chosen to add the following to my response about my classmate saying our graduate school friendships are "fake":

No matter how you cut it, I have not been "fake" in my friendships with any of you. I'm keeping it real, man. Of course, that's why you like me (even when you hate me). Ain't no full-o'-shit over here; ain't never gonna be. I eat crow just as frequently as I eat my foot. And if I say I like you, I like you; if I say I love you, I love you; if I say you're a dumb-ass, I'm still open to having you prove me wrong.

Now that's all I'm sayin'.