for real(sies)

I almost started this blog with, "so what makes something real? Is it tangible? Is it mere atomic weight and the ascription thereof?" And then I realized that despite my best efforts to pretend to be interested in the physical properties of reality and the perception of matter as reflected in light, I have zero interest in delving into the subject of reality outside the bounds of human relationships. And seeing as how this is my blog, I've decided to, once again, pare down through the meat of the matter to what it is I'd really like to whine about.

I spoke to my grandfather last weekend. After a long line of remarkably insightful questions about my job he almost immediately turned around and grilled me about the friends I have. He referenced the expression about real friends and counting them on one hand (versus acquaintances) and he asked if I had real friends in my life, in my city. And that got me thinking about real friends, my city, hands, etc. But also, my grandfather is a mechanical engineer. He's an American dream. He's as car-shop and model-boat-building as they get and here he was starting a conversation about how to work hard and ending it with how to be happy... The least I could do was spend some at-work-hours thinking about it.

So what's real, anyway? Who should we count on our fingers? Is it the banter-er that belittles the best? Is it the introspect-er we don't want to lose? Is it the hi-fiver we don't want to admit to not wanting to lose? Is it a relationship marked by longevity? Is it some mixture of transience and permanence and bananas coupled with atomic weight and measurable volume and an out-of-state ID? Can we lose them in an instant? If we can lose them, was it ever real?

How do we know if someone who we LIKE having around is worth investing in because they'll STAY around; through personal crisis, hell and high(er) water, a relocation to Portland for a lumberjack... you know. How do we know what we should work out and what we should walk out on?

We don't. Right? Is this the part about trusting your heart to know what's real because it clunks around your chest like a pinto at a soap box derby whenever 'real' gets near? Mayyyyyyyybe....

Ultimately, no matter how things present, the perception of permanence and transience can only be measured retrospectively. Right?

So if you're married to your expectations, do you throw your whole heart into it and expect a divorce while working to stay married? Is that the only way to make sure you'll always be right in the end? Do we have to make it through the middle to know what was good at the start?

What about a litmus test? An indicator... Milestones... A frat-boy romantic at a wholesale keg shop drowning in ice (Lots of ice. Because it's beer, by god, BEER!) who knows her real friends won't graduate to whiskey without her...

Or... More applicably, imagine it's the first Monday of winter and your metro card expired, your subway train broke down, you missed a client meeting, your laptop blue-screened, your gay IT guy hit on you - you, a boyish lesbian - (and then lost all your iTunes as he DIDN'T recover your personal files), you got soaked to the bone as it rained during lunch, you sat in a freezing office working on a backup mini-PC for the rest of the afternoon recreating everything you did over the weekend until you finally give up on powerpoint formatting with a flourish that catches the attention of the fire alarm, and when you get home your toilet is still running and your bathroom looks like a water-bug vacation resort.

Who do you call for an emergency intervention - who do you desperately need to walk through that Irish pub's door - who do YOU want to come home to? And when will you believe that that's real?