The worst part about having friends is having friends leave you

Not "leave you" like, "I'm leaving this friendship permanently because of a calamity." The leaving I'm talking about is your standard issue "that's all for now" leaving. Leaving that implies future visits. This sort of leaving happens everyday, literally dozens of times.

Most times, this leaving is fine, often welcomed, but I just experienced it in a big way. Three of my best buddies in the whole wide world who I don't get to see very often, along with my girlfriend, just left my apartment after surprising me Friday night with their visit.

The weekend had been tabbed SURPRISE WEEKEND, 2009 for the last few weeks. My girlfriend, the surpriser. Me, the surprisee. I figured she was planning a trip to see a concert or visit some metro museum or zoo. When I returned home Friday night from work, there was my girlfriend -- obviously -- but then here too were the three aforementioned friends, one of whom lives six hours away. It's difficult to coordinate four different schedules, let alone when the people involved live so far away, so seeing everyone standing in my livingroom definitely had me surprised to beat the band.

There was drinking, there were movies. There was bowling and grilling out. Hell, we just DID. IT. UP. But, inevitably, shit starts turning back into pumpkins and people have to get on with their lives. What's so strange is that our lives were once pretty similar to the weekend we just enjoyed. The last two days were a microcosm of five years ago, sped up and a little more cramped and uncomfortable in a one-bedroom apartment. But we remembered all the moves. It's like Brain Wilson singing those old Beach Boys tunes. Yeah, it's different. It's also kind of sad and depressing, but all the original sentiment is there. Just wasn't made for these times, indeed.

Of course, the worst part is sitting in your apartment alone after everyone leaves and getting crushed by the solitude. I'm used to being alone for stretches. I really enjoy alone time, in fact, but find me someone who doesn't feel a shade uneasy after a bustling weekend visit from close, long-lost friends, and I'll show you a BIG FAT LIAR.

And I guess this is all just to say that I miss my friends. I've often imagined scenarios in which we all move to a similar geographic location and pick up where we left off before everyone started moving so damn far away. Just like your group of friends, we always waxed about writing movies and/or TV shows together. The thinking now goes that if we can all find addresses close enough to each other, we can start collaborating to produce all that award-winning material, finally achieving monetary and creative fulfillment, our collective dream.

But again, just like your friends, as time goes by and life's ever-tightening grip takes control, the reality of this gets more and more unlikely, just as the assumed/assured critical and commercial reception of our hypothetical creative ventures edges closer to hyperbole. The image is then that of the four friends, now all old and decrepit, sitting in their rocking chairs insisting that had they been given their proper chance, they'd have done something truly special with it.

Deep down, this reality is almost easier to bear than any attempt to actually get anything done. Because that requires some faith, and who has the time/patience/nutsack for that? Better to never try and never fail than to try and fail miserably, right? This is what really keeps us from doing anything, not six hour commutes. The commute excuse is handy, though. And hell, we're not quite all 30 yet, so we still have at least 10 more years of insisting that it could all still go off.

Filibuster the dream, y'all.