lines in the sand

I feel like I'm getting slammed from so many directions. Being hit hard by illness doesn't help--head aching, throat hurting, and general grumpiness from malaise.

Not to mention we stayed up until 1 am last night (when was the last time I did that? 2009?) just like freshman year, but without the boundless energy I seem to remember. Where in the world did it go? Downtown was lovely--full moon and all--and we hit up some pandora on the overlook beside the Hunter museum and danced for an hour. I love swing! And then we livened it up a bit. Annalisa is the queen of salsa, and she tried to get some sway into this white girl. Poor dear, I don't think it worked.

Which brings me to the second point of slamnation. Keep in mind, my friends, that I love you all fiercely. But our opinions are going to differ here.

While we were planning out downtown adventure, a friend of mine casually asked, "So, is there a place to get drinks down there?" I was confused for all of half a second, thinking, Of course; we're going to be at Rembrandt's, coffee heaven. What kind of...oh. Then it hit me. Hard. She wasn't talking about tea.

Another friend shared covert looks with me, but others chimed in a bit hesitantly with their answers, mostly positive. Although the idea was pretty much dropped immediately, it still left me a bit shell-shocked, and increasingly angry.

My friends drink.

I don't know how I'm supposed to respond to this. My sibthings tell me that they pretty much expect it of nearly everyone they meet. But my people aren't "everyone." They're mine. And it breaks my heart. I thought we were different--if not in our personal choices, at least at a unit, when we are together. We've never used alcohol, and yet have had so many good and glorious times that my heart feels like it will burst from happiness. And so when this suggestion came, I felt as if the ground had suddenly disappeared under my feet.

I've grown up to be different from the majority, with standards that are shaped not just what I've been told but what I sharply and instinctively feel, in my soul, to be right and wrong. And I'm sitting here now trying to figure out why. I don't feel like we're better than other people because our standards fall in a different place. I do my very best not to judge other people when their actions are different than mine, even when I feel that sharp, dangerous feeling. And I was so thankful to have found my people. Because they are good and kind and I can depend on them for anything.

And they are still. But I despise alcohol. The idea of it becoming something we do sends a shock of hatred through me that I didn't even know I had. And yet, apparently, people that I love feel differently. My best friend indulges in an "occasional glass of wine," but she has never done it around me and I like to believe that it's because she loves me. Because she knows I don't like it. And dear, when you hear about this, please, call me. I miss you and need to talk to you so badly. Because I am new to this, as old as I am, and it hurts. And I know that the choice is yours to make, and hers as well. And I will always stand beside you, regardless.

But, to bring it into our group? On one of our nights?

I'm angry again. And still not sure what to think, to say. And here, I am protected in this, because my friends don't really blog, and so I can be angry and hurt and bewildered in safety, with mostly strangers to know.
And so I have so many things hitting me at once.

Yet, this may be a small thing. And it may not. And who am I to say? I have no desire to draw a line in the sand--and yet, for me, the line has always existed. I simply did not need it.