I’ve spent about a week in my new place, new town, and while some things are better, like not having to fill my gas tank two or three times a week, some things are still the same, in that I’m still a lonely weirdo with no social life. Intellectually I know I can’t expect a circle of friends to appear ex nihilo, but this town isn’t really happening for single twenty-somethings, and I’m still feeling the same old blah. Maybe I just need my meds adjusted.
Around here, church is just about the only way to socialize. I tried going to probably the biggest church around here, probably with the biggest number of single twenty-somethings, and it’s a freakin’ Calvinist Baptist church. I was desperate, and I thought I could handle what Baptists dish out, but I didn’t expect that everything I hate about Baptists would be crammed up into my face all at once. I left the service early, pissed the hell off, and drove around the downtown area looking for the big Methodist church. I found some Presbyterians — apparently the liberal Presbyterians — and it was nice. I was so inexplicably upset from the Baptist sermon that I cried all through the Presbyterian one, but there was a little old lady who came back and sat beside me and took care of me. It was nice. The pastor was a 28-year-old New Englander, very different than the run-of-the-mill pastor around here, and I felt I could finally talk about my problems with religion and depression to someone who wouldn’t give me the party line.
But I hope to take a page from Candide and at least be occupied if I can’t be genuinely happy. I plan to get set up with the local SPCA to volunteer this week, and I hope to find more things to do. Maybe get involved with this, that, or the other. Maybe, maybe, maybe. I feel like I’m running on increasingly depleted inertia, but I know I need to pick up and do something.