Let me be clear — I’m a workaholic, and have been since I stayed up during my senior year of high school for 48 hours straight, fine-tuning my illustration portfolio. I went to the greatest high school that ever was: the High School Of Art & Design (in case you were wondering why I was fine tuning my illustration portfolio).
Those 48 hours took a toll on me, to be sure (tons of coffee and lots of Nodoze, which I found out years later you should NOT take with coffee, but who the fuck knew directions were supposed to be read), but I LOVED just listening to music and doing my art.
Ever since then, I’ve loved long hours of working and doing little else. I don’t like to travel, I don’t like to party, I don’t visit people just to visit, I rarely hang out with anyone anymore, and I’ve been fine with that.
If you can get me out of my house, you have accomplished the near-impossible. As I’ve gotten older (I’ll be 26 in April…WHAT?), I’ve become more and more reclusive. I like being alone and working — that’s just how I am.
Two things have happened to me over the last month that have me feeling I may have been really wrong in my steadfast refusal to consider no one but myself when it comes to how I work.
My BFF Denys Cowan called me and straight out told me that we never hang out anymore, and that’s not how BFF’s are supposed to roll. That was the first thing — the second was that I spoke to a dear friend whom I have not spoken to in almost 25 years. Yes, Jean, she and I were friends when I was 1.
Lucy is her name, and seldom have I been so happy to reconnect with anyone from my past. The last time I saw her, she was in high school and I was just high.
Joke…or is it?
Yes, it was a joke, but she was in high school and worked part-time at The Children’s Art Carnival, where I ran a program. Yeah, I ran a program at one year old. What can I say, I’m a fucking prodigy.
I was fiercely protective of Lucy, as I am with every woman in my life, and I’m sure I was a dick to more than one possible suitor. In fact, I made it clear to every male in the teenage program at the school that Lucy was off-limits. Lucy and I would have the best conversations — she was smart as a whip and wise beyond her years.
I’ve said over and over in this column that I know good people, and I do. Lucy is one of the best, and when I spoke to her a few nights ago, it was as if I had just seen her the day before.
Denys and Lucy got me thinking that I need to spend more time with my friends and family, of which I consider them both. Truth be told, Lucy and Denys are much closer to me than most of my real family.
True story: I was stopped on the street ten years ago, and this guy started talking to me like he knew me. I just figured I met him somewhere and forgot who the hell he was. It was only when he started asking about my mother that I realized this guy was my cousin, and before you think distant cousin, think again. I spent summers with this guy, and we were close.
I had not seen him in a few years, but that’s still pretty fucked up.
I seem to have a real bad case of “out of sight, out of mind.” I’m sure there is some deep-seated reason why I prefer solitude and saw (up to now, I hope) no reason to change my solitary ways, but I think I have to, and more than that, I think — no, I know that I WANT to.
Having my BFF put me on blast (white people, ask someone) and not having Lucy in my life for 25 years is simply not acceptable.
Lucy’s husband is one lucky mofo, and her kids definitely have the coolest mom on the block.
I’m lucky to have her back in my life, and luckier still to have a BFF like Denys.
Now, I’m going to give my cousin a call. Won’t old what’s-his-name be surprised to hear from me!