I am very excited to introduce you to my first guest poster and friend, Allison Barnes. I have to admit that we have never met in person, which is one of those oddities about meeting people through blogging. Allison is the niece of my friend, Susan. She {used} to write over on An Apple a Day, though new adventures have come her way for the time being. I commented on her blog, she commented on mine, we began emailing back and forth and have since become friends. In the past year, she worked diligently compiling the book "We Are Women," which was a compilation of essays and pictures depicting the divinity of women, and which was released this past September.
Though we have never met in person, I have great respect and admiration for Miss Allison Barnes, for her writing, thoughts, interests, aspirations, and kindness. I have been inspired by her many times and wanted to share her with you.
So... without further ado, enjoy this post, written by Allison Barnes, called "Kindred Spirits and I:"
“Life is partly what we make it,
and partly what is made by the friends we choose.”
-Tennessee Williams
“Maybe you’re bi-polar,” he said to me as I sat sobbing on my couch.
“Gee, thanks,” I replied, trying to remember that this guy was super nice to be sitting here listening to me bawl about one thing or another. He continued with, “Tons of creative people have bi-polar disorder. It’s not necessarily a bad thing.” And then we let it go.
A year later we’d be together in a similar position when he would reveal that he may or may not have, to some degree or other, a few mental quirks himself. The man I had known for over two years, who I considered a good friend, and who I shared creative habits with gave me a peek into the complexities of his life. I spent the day in a dream, trying to imagine what the world looked like through his lens, trying to comprehend how his mind shaped the works he created.
I had never loved him more.
Yet, over the past few weeks, I’ve said goodbye and I’ve accepted the probable loss of our relationship, as well as many of my relationships with others, and I feel surprisingly content about it. I’m leaving on an adventure, and when I return, a lot of people will be off on their own adventures. We are all moving and flowing through our timelines, and what can be bad about that?
I’ve always been a planner. I plan out class schedules at least five times before settling, and then even do some swapping around once the semester starts. I lose track of time researching possible careers into the early morning hours. But with this new door opening, all of the planning has forcefully ceased. How can I even try to plan a year and a half in advance, with that year and a half being complete static? For all I know, I could get back and decide to pursue philanthropy full time, or decide that I have a hopeful career awaiting me as a modern artist? (Doubtful, but a possibility nevertheless).
But despite the shadow that hangs at the end of my adventure, there are people who will catch me when I come back home. Aside from close family members, there’s the friend who is more of a sister, who I will surely be sending Christmas cards to in 40 years; the friend who shares my academic, artistic, and hippie-ish passions; and the friend who laughs with me at the stupidest and most wonderful jokes. They know me and love me for everything that I am, and friendships like those cannot be taken lightly.
So while any possible New Years Resolution has been pushed to the back burner, with the simple intention to get through the year, I know that I will never have a kindred spirit too far away. I am eternally grateful for this realization.
