Welcome to my blog, the SFB. Here’s little about me and this endeavor. 

This is basically an attempt  to sort through my own aging and growing process and to vent about trying to put things in my life in perspective.  And for me to blather on about things that I like, things I hate, things I wonder, things I am obsessed with, etc.  It’s sort of an exercise in stream-of-conscious writing.  And beware, my language is often NOT lady-like, so there’s that.

SFB was a nickname I got a long time ago and decided to resurrect for both old time’s and new time’s sake.  A  little nod to my long-lost youth, a remembrance of things past;  when life was fun and anything was possible. And also perhaps a way to reconcile foolish mistakes I made when I was young and stupid that maybe prevented me from pursuing a different life path.  Not that my life turned out badly.  It’s pretty darn good.  But I, like others I imagine who are on the other side of fifty, often wonder what and where I would be if I hadn’t done this, or had done that.  And what the hell happened to the last ten, twenty, shit- thirty years??????

 A long time ago when I was in college, the boyfriend of one of my friends christened me a SFB. We were hanging out on the second floor of our dorm, as young people used to do, just gossiping, maybe drinking, most surely smoking cigarettes, Camels or Marlboro Reds,  talking about this guy or that one or what party we were going to, etc..  And to be honest, I WAS a SFB.  But not in a terribly awful way.  Just in the way a twenty-year old who isn’t quite sure what or who she wants is.   Said boyfriend was a tall Irish fellow and was a really good guy.  He called me a SFB because I had a tendency to not make commitments to nice boys who were brave enough to be interested in me. I wanted to keep options open in case there might be other boys who liked me.  I wanted to be available whenever to whomever struck my fancy at the time. And most of the guys I was interested in were not that interested in me.  I tended not to want those who showed actual interest.  At least not at first.  Sometimes it took a while.  I wanted options.  I really think he gave me that nickname with love ; – ).  He wasn’t in any way being unkind, and was pretty accurate with his assessment. I gave him a lot of reasons to come up with that title.  In many ways I definitely still am a SFB.  And that’s why I’ve decided to go with it.

Anyway, here I am.  58. A long, long way from that second floor dorm room in 1987.  Retired three years from a thirty year career in teaching mostly English at the middle school level.  I had some good years, but must admit I was not a natural born teacher.  I kind of just fell into it because I didn’t know what else to do.  People who have determination and purpose and know exactly what to do with their lives are mysteries to me.  I still don’t know what I want to do when I grow up.  I guess at this point in my life I probably am not going to ever completely grow up.

I find myself in circumstances I wonder if other people find themselves in.  After years of thinking they were going in one direction, they find themselves bewildered about what the hell happened?  When did things change?  Why did they change? How did they change? What the fuck am I doing here?  And how the hell can I do a u-turn, or take a detour, or maybe get out of the car and onto a, I don’t know, bus? Boat? Moped? Vespa? 

One of the reasons I decided to try a blog is because at closer to 60 than 40 I find myself mostly friendless. It sounds so damn pathetic.  I mean I have a few people I would refer to as friends,  people that I sometimes do some things with and that I respect.  But they aren’t friends the way you have friends when you’re young.  When you have a squad or a pack that does everything together.  Who you feel a strong kinship with.  I mean I don’t have any really honest to goodness down and dirty friends with whom I can laugh, cry,  bitch to, shop with, drink with, dance with, share secrets with, share serious and stupid stuff with. The kind of friends you can text to say you have an idea for a last minute random road trip and who will immediately reply with “I’m in! How soon are we leaving?”  I am kind of lonely for a bestie.  

I have a great husband.  He really is a great husband.  And I have two grown kids.   But I don’t have a friend who is the yin to my yang.  Who is all in with things I like to do and who asks me to do crazy shit with them.

And I wonder if I ever really did. 

I look back at relationships and question if people I thought were my friends thought the same of me?  Was I a bad friend?  Is that why I don’t have any anymore?  There was a time when I thought my crew of friends from high school/middle school, a group that did all kinds of things together, would be friends forever. And we were pretty tight for a long time.  Well into our late twenties and early thirties.  And most of them still are friends who do stuff together.  Except for me.  I seem to have been deleted from the group. And it kind of hurts.  I mean, what the fuck? I know I’m not perfect, I can be a SFB and all, but that’s just part of my unique personality isn’t it?  I know I can be intense, and I can be selfish, but not anymore so than anyone else at any given time. My character flaws aren’t any worse than anyone else’s.  I can also be one hell of a loyal friend. 

And I had what I thought was a tight group of college friends.  I mean we experienced a lot together.  We saw each other at some vulnerable times and some crazy times. Fuck if we didn’t have some fun.  But I have zero contact with them anymore.  

I guess some things just fade away.

So I started the SFB because I mainly just want someone (someones?) to talk to.  Someone who might be feeling the same way.  Kind of left out. Kind of lonely. Kind of wondering what the hell happened to my life and what’s next? If you can in any way relate, welcome.  And if not, that’s cool too. I’m trying very hard to, as the saying goes, “let ‘em”, as in let people who don’t include you do so, and forget worrying about it. 

Till next time, go listen to some good music and dance, even if it’s by yourself. I spend a lot of time listening to music and dancing by myself.  Sometimes standing on a chair in my dining room, the volume on my record player or speaker turned up so loudly that people walking by the house can surely hear what I’m blasting.  I hope they think I’m fucking crazy. 

So naturally my next topic will be my recent very and definitely crazy musical obsession. 

Rock on!

The SFB