Curmudgeon

Today was one of those sunny, 85-degree, perfect summer days, so it surprised me when I came to the depressing conclusion that I should give up on people while walking back from the library. I had just gotten two books that I wanted, read a graphic novel and mailed letters, I should have been pleased with life, but something seemed askew. I thought about my plans for the weekend, which are reading, sleeping, and maybe hiking. All enjoyable things, true, but all solitary activities. My Fourth of July plans are similarly alone.

This lead to thoughts on my sociability. I have never been good at making friends. At school you end up living and working with people, eventually forming friendships bound by your common stresses and goals. You are the same age group, at the same stage in life. Work is not always comparable, and for me, is definitely not comparable here. Even if it were, I'm really just not good at making friends. I can play nice and accept lunch invitations, but soon enough those pleasantries will be dropped. I am standoffish, not wanting to offend and overcompensating by being bland. I've just never been especially great at it. And since trying and failing is much more painful than never trying at all, give up now.

So, I give up all hope of making friends, instead deciding to spend my time in Kentucky accompanied by Ernest Hemmingway and Cory Doctorow, but the rest of the day did not get better. When I went to turn in my rent, I ended up being a not-altogether-pleasant person to the leasing agent. When I drove to the grocery I yelled at the other drivers, who often were behaving legally, but somehow irked me. When at the movies, I pointedly mumbled something about "obnoxious, no mannered children" while passing the family with the 12-year-old-who-yelled at the R-rated movie.

First, I give up on being a social person, and second I start getting angry at other people with little provocation. How did I become such a curmudgeon?