i should be sleeping, but my mind is swimming

so i'm sitting in my bed, it's about 1:30 am, and i hear a phone ringing. because my roommate is asleep i freak out and run into the hall with my old cell phone. most people know i have a new number, but i check anyway just in case. i look at the call list, because by now i've missed it, and my poor lil heart skips a beat. frank.

my first thought is that he's drunk and calling to complain about something, because he's a bitch like that. but against my better judgement and nagging mind i grab my new phone and head down to the lounge to call him back. he seems pretty lucid, so i go on with the conversation.

i haven't realized how much i really do miss him.

i've known frank for a very long time, and he's always been one of my closest friends, no matter the infrequency with which we actually see each other. he's a busy guy, and his school has a completely different schedule than mine, so it's very rare that we have a break at the same time. weekends like the one i spent with him back in september are sparatic and amazing. and i feel horrible that i didn't see him more over winter break, but one trip to the record store gave me just enough of a fix to hopefully last me until spring break.

but anyway, our conversation...

it seems that lately we've both been analyzing a lot, especially friendships and social inclinations (beans, do not take this as me embracing sociology in any way, shape or form). he's reading a portrait of the artist as a young man, and came to the conclusion that his friendships have always worked around the number three. him (the middle man), a victim, and a victimizer. and i realized that i do the exact same thing. i'm always in groups of three people, and it seems to take that same shape. or i'm the victim, or the victimizer. but if it seems to me the other two roles are being represented, i force myself into that third one without even realizing it, just to make things feel balanced. i told frank about the other day when katie and i were walking to class. there were a bunch of kids standing outside the art building, one with dreadlocks, one with paint splattered overalls and cat-eye glasses, one with a ratty cardigan and striped suit pants, all smoking brown herbal cigarettes. i turned to katie and said, "wow, this school majors in perpetuating sterotypes. all of the kids on the basketball team are either black, or really tall, the kids standing outside of the art building all look like they should be there, the kids in somsen(the business and computer building) are all foreign, i feel like i'm back in high school." she looked over and said, "you know, i don't think i fit in any of these buildings." i looked down at my outfit. green army pants, chucks, a black hoodie, multiple piercings, an army medic messenger bag, iPod with neil young blaring. "you know, i look like i should be standing outside the history or poly sci building, but i don't really want to." in high school everything was very segregated. there were definite cliques and groups. and i was in the group of kids who didn't fit in the other groups. i said all this to frank and, after a pause, said, "you know, james joyce would probably think that was a very artistic thing to say." and it started all over again.

but frank was the same way in high school. we've always been oddly connected to each other. so much in common, always thinking about the same stuff at the same time.

and then he tells me that he wants to become a catholic priest. i questioned this decision in my mind because, well, frank is gay, and i don't exactly see good old Benedict XVI asking him to come over and watch Brokeback Mountain. but he told me that his whole reasoning behind it is education. he wants to be able to use the amazing resources of the catholic church to teach, what he calls, the "really jesus christy stuff." peace, love tolerance, just overall spirituality, not blind conformity. and i got it. it's the perfect thing for frank. the other night he was standing at the sheridan stop on the red line talking to a homeless man. "i don't have any money for you, because i'm the poorest person i know, but i can give you information." (at this point i broke into the story and told frank that he himself was the crazy homeless man.) frank explained about the wars in the middle east, how everything was in fact over oil, and that these holy lands were starting to lose that holiness because of it. the focus had been shifted away from what was important. and as i'm listening to this, i'm realizing that i really don't care about anything. i have no passion, nothing i would fight for if it came down to it. i have things i feel strongly about, but to me they're things i shouldn't have to fight for. i don't really know, but at that moment i felt unimportant and apathetic. then frank told me that the email i sent him last week, which was just me saying that i'd noticed he'd deleted his myspace and facebook, put a smile on his face because someone had taken notice. and i realized that i am passionate about something. my friends. i would fight for any one of them, i care about them more than anything, and the fact that me acknowledging someone's existence reaffirmed something for them made me feel important again.

so there that is.