Unintentionally hard-hitting question...

An old friend asked me an interesting question the other day.

"And personally?"

We'd bumped into each other in the hall, and tried to catch up with each other. A little difficult when both flanked by two other people, none of which know each other. We covered the little bit of ground that we normally would, just the very basic, "How's the semester treating you."

She talked a little more, because she's overly-talkative and slightly self-centered. Not that I mind, because I'm always interested in hearing how others are doing. I sometimes find it hard to talk about myself, and I really don't know why. It seems like it's my nature just to draw stories out from others, not simply talk about my own life.

I find that happens often, especially when meeting new people, always unhelpful when thinking dating or trying to hit it off with someone. Sometimes I draw on a piece of inner vitality that super-charges my wit and storytelling capabilities, and I can hold someone entranced in conversation.

But mostly, I find it difficult to just talk casually about myself. Often, I find myself saying I'm kinda boring, simply because I can't think of interesting things to say, or things I think other people would find interesting.

When reviewing my life, I've actually got lots of experiences and things going for me. But it's hard to translate that sort of thing into everyday conversation. Which is what made her question so profound for me.

"So, how about school. What fun academically are we having this year?" she asked. I filled her in on the power-struggle with the prof, and the general comments about the year. She nodded along, tossing in a story quite like my own professor. Then came the one I find most difficult to answer.

"And personally? How are you doing?" she asked, wide eyed.

I paused for a moment, drawing a blank stare. Really, I'd never considered this. I think about my problems (real and perceived) far more than I think about the good things in life, but I don't recall the last time someone so pointedly asked how 'I' was doing.

"Fine...oh fine, you know, things aren't bad. Just kinda wrapping up the semester..." I said.

I'm fairly certain that her question was aimed at finding out if I was single or not. From her end, that was probably all it meant. But it opened a great question within myself.

How can one answer that question honestly, much less to someone who isn't a 'best friend'? It's so personal. The public answer will always be a variation of 'fine', but if one is being honest, the answer is probably going to be a lot darker.

I thought about it as I walked home. If one of my closest friends asked me how I was doing personally, how would I respond?

The answer would be, I feel isolated. That's the one clear label I think defines my current apprehensions with my life. Sure, there's the loads of good, but we usually (and unfortunately) concentrate on the bad.

My isolation comes in many forms. I feel isolated from friends of yesterday, isolated from the friends of today, who seem to do very little in the span of a week. Isolated at home in Toronto, single in an apartment full of couples. Isolated in companionship, as in, lacking it in any adult form. Isolated from the mystical 'gay community', which I seemingly can find no secret knock to open the door and start spreading my wings. Even isolation within my family, with my horrible secret standing in the corner whenever I'm in the same room as my father.

The other label I was tempted to use was loneliness, but I don't necessarily think that tells the story. Sure, I'm 'lonely' for some added nights out, and certainly chronically 'lonely' in the relationship department, but I think the term isolated really captures the better meaning of it.

As I continually remind myself, there is lots to be grateful and happy about. My education is something I'm proud of, as are my scholastic accomplishments. And of the intricate knitting of my friendships, I'm also quite happy to report complete comfort with them all. I'm happy that I get to live my 21-year-old life in many ways that I want to, happy to sweep my floors and clean by bathroom.

But inevitably it always goes back to the bad. Academics and cleaning products won't keep you warm at night.

I feel like I'm missing the 'big picture', the 'out there' part of life. I read enough and see enough to at least begin to understand things I may (or may not, depending on how you see it) be missing out on. And I wonder, when will I?

Something within me is begging for a dash of immaturity, a dash of the wild side. If anything, I want it simply to let me know if I'm happy in the place that I am after all, or if I really do want some of the things I wonder about. At the same time, I don't know how one pursues that without being 'in for a penny, in for a pound.'

In High School, I always carried with me a buoyant optimism. Things would be better, once I was a little older. The awkward teenage years would be behind me. And so it went, indeed, as I got older things did get better. My optimism helped keep me afloat, with the possibly naive chanting in my brain that good things come to he who waits, and, once you make some changes, things will be better.

These days, I'm forgetting my buoyancy. I really need to re-light that flame within myself, to look back at how things indeed had changed for the better, as time went by. Sure, I'm still not in the place where I think I want to be yet, but Rome wasn't built in a day. And when I think about how my life has changed in the past year, I get dizzy because I never even imagined that things would have happened as they did.

But still, there are the elusive moments that I'm still wondering about. I'm not getting any younger, and when I think about kids who are 18, even 20, and have more of that cultural capital than I do, more connections, more understanding and acceptance, I get a little upset.

I'm not getting any younger.
But things take time, the other side says.
You have to make your own path.
Only if the doors are open, the other side says.
This is your fault, you've failed, you're the same person you've always been even if you want to believe change is around the corner.
I can't be blamed if it's just 'not my time' yet. Remember when I said, "It just wasn't in the cards?..."

I guess it's time for a change again. But I thought I'd already done what I needed to do. Guess not, after all.

Same old question. How?