Dear Sars,

I know you said your take on wedding etiquette is often at odds with that of your readership, but you seem to have your head on straight and I’d appreciate your advice. Let’s get right to it.

Wedding bells are ringing. Four sets of them, in fact. Herein lies the dilemma -– I am close to completing my ninth month as a full-time volunteer in an 11-month service term. While I get stipends to cover my housing, food, and transportation, let me just say that the small amount I receive for personal expenditures doesn’t go too far. Two of the weddings I will attend in the upcoming months are for friends from years ago, and I don’t stay in close contact with either of them. I’m still very excited to attend their nuptials, but I probably haven’t spoken with either of them in about a year. Neither of them know that I’m doing this volunteer term.

How can I not look like a cheap bastard? I simply can’t afford to spend a lot on either gift. (The other two weddings aren’t too much of a problem –- the one wedding I will be providing some music, so that will be my gift, and the last wedding is of my dearest friend, and due to her long engagement I purchased her gift quite a while ago.) I was hoping to create a gift of my own (not from the registry) that would be useful and attractive, that looks suitable but doesn’t break the bank. Any suggestions? Is this a totally cheap cop-out that I should be embarrassed to even consider?

Sincerely,
Why Can’t They Wait Until I Get a Real Job?

Dear Just Get Them A Fish Fork,

Keep in mind that 1) you have a year to buy a gift, after the wedding date, so if you want to wait until you’ve got more funds, you can do that, and 2) folks have got no call to criticize gifts. They’re gifts.

I don’t see a problem with going off the registry, but if you do, I would go with something personal — a framed photo of the couple or of you with the member of the couple you’re “more friends with,” something like that. People do put registries together for a reason, and trying to guess the couple’s taste is not generally a great call — but it’s the thought that counts. Do what you can afford and don’t worry about it too much.

Hey Sars. Love TN, love TWoP, love it all, especially the Vine.

After spending my summer back home, I’ve just moved back to my college
town, about an hour away. I just graduated from college and got a job
down here, which I’m enjoying so far.

The problem comes with starting up a new social life. Despite the fact
that several people I was “friends” with in college are still down
here, I truthfully have no interest in remaining friends with any of
them.

Towards the end of my college “career,” I began to realize that most
of the people I considered “friends” were completely wrong for me,
mentally. They would often put me down and belittle my opinions just
because it was different from theirs and they didn’t think that what I
had to say was valid. The summer back home helped clear my mind and
made me refocus and rethink what I want in friendships. It was a
frustrating situation, and one that I am glad to be rid of now that
I’ve graduated.

Now that I’m back here and starting a job, I’m wondering how to make
friends all over again. In college it was easier, since it was more of
a social environment. I’m not entirely sure how to meet people and
form better, healthier friendships. I’m wondering what kind of advice
you have for someone looking to start over.

Thanks!

Starting Over

Dear Starting,

There isn’t really any advice when it comes to making friends. If there were, a lot of us would have been a lot better at it in junior high.

Wow, that was helpful, eh?

Okay. I think you have to think of everyone as a potential friend…not in the sense that you’re barging up to strangers all, “He-lloooooooo!” but in the sense that, hey, you never know. I’ve made friends in adult-ed classes, on jury duty, through Tomato Nation; you never can tell when someone is going to turn into a friend.

Go to work; take a class; go to shows; make eye contact. Always remember that you never know. Sometimes it starts with “hey, awesome skirt.” Sometimes it’s asking for a light. Just stay open.

Dear Sars,

I happen to have a sticky situation
and I’d like some advice on how to handle it, please.

I have a friend who writes poetry as a hobby. She is,
generously, not a good poet. I’m certainly no expert,
and most definitely not a poet myself, so I could be
wrong and she could be an undiscovered genius but I
really don’t think so. That’s really here nor there,
though. My problem is that my friend routinely sends
me her poems to read and always asks me to comment on
them and give her feedback. I’m an English Lit major
and she’s always saying how she sends them to me
because she thinks my comments are more valid (her
words) than non-lit folks. She recently sent me a
whole whack of poems and asked me to critique them for
her and told me to be as harsh as I needed to be.

My problem is: what the heck can I say to her? With
her other poems I’ve always been fairly general and
vague and just said, “Oh, that was good. I enjoyed it,”
or something similar.

I really don’t want to tell her she’s awful. I don’t
think it would serve much of a purpose, except to get
me off the hook so I wouldn’t have to read more of her
output. I don’t want to be mean and tell her she’s bad
because she uses poetry as emotional outlet and
really, she’s not hurting anyone. She has no
aspirations for literary fame or anything, she just
enjoys writing. I’m all for that, of course.

On the other hand, I feel bad for lying to her already
and I don’t want to compound those past lies with a
critique full of complimentary bullshit.

Is there a tactful way to respond without lying? Or
should I just bite the bullet and make up some nice
things?

Thank you,
J

Dear J,

Well, my grandmother used to tell me not to ask a question I didn’t want the answer to. If your friend doesn’t want to hear that her poetry isn’t the greatest, she probably shouldn’t have asked for your unvarnished opinion…but on the other hand, you’ve always said nice things in the past, so she probably doesn’t think you’ll do any differently this time…and on the other other hand, if she’s just writing for her own enjoyment and not entertaining any fantasies of literary greatness, there’s probably no harm in continuing to shine her on.

How you respond really depends on what you want out of the situation. There are times when honesty isn’t actually the best policy, and I think this is probably one of those times — unless you want to put her off giving you poems to critique, and if that’s the case, you should maybe tell her something like, “I’m glad you have this outlet, but I’m not a poet, so I’m not really qualified to comment on these — and I can’t,” and hand them back to her, instead of harshing on them.

But it also depends on what she asked for in terms of critique. It’s totally possible to suggest improvements in a tactful way; if she’s as bad as you say, perhaps she’ll glean from the fact that you’ve noted 56 possible improvements in a single-stanza poem that maybe she should stop asking you for help.

The best solution, though, is probably just to tell her that you don’t feel comfortable giving her a formal critical explication of her work, because you don’t think you’re qualified, and it’s awkward.

Oh Almighty Sars,

I’m 17 and a senior at the Liberal Arts and Sciences Academy in Austin, Texas. I love my school, the intelligent and fun people in it, as well as the poetic, creative, slightly weird barefoot hippie it has allowed me to be. However, many of my classmates are the uber-overachiever type, you know, the ones preparing for Harvard in seventh grade. For them, that was a large part of the reason for coming to the LASA. Not so for me, however. I came because A) I was floundering in normal public schools and needed something that allowed me more room to be creative, B) I got teased a lot in middle school for being bookish and liked the idea of attending a school in which there were others who thought Shakespeare was pretty darn cool, and C) LASA has a film course.

However, as I said, many of my classmates have been preparing for college for years now, and I have not. Like, at all. They all have these lists of amazing schools they’re applying to and teachers they’re going to get recommendations from and things like that, and I don’t. To make matters worse, the counselor in charge of things like helping with college has started visiting our classes, talking about what we should be doing and have already done, and my English teacher recently announced that an upcoming assignment would be to write admissions essays. Sitting in a classroom amongst people who all seem to have their shit in order for bright, promising futures at wonderful universities is starting to make me feel inadequate.

But it’s not like I don’t have plans, even if they don’t mesh with those of everyone else in school. My after-graduation plans go like this: Move out of mother’s home, probably to Kentucky with boyfriend of four-plus years, let’s call him “Jim” (he has family there, and living is waaaaaay cheaper than Austin), go to community college while working, eventually transfer to local state college, get degree in education, teach and continue making films. My dream job would be a director, but I understand that’s a hard field to break into, and I’d be perfectly happy teaching as a backup. I wouldn’t even mind living in Hickland, as long as I had Jim to keep me sane, even if it meant keeping my political views quiet in public. I’m completely happy with this plan and I think it’s a good one, but I can’t help feeling like I’m not measuring up to my fellow students. I feel like it’s expected of me to go straight from high school into a good college, and that’s not what I want.

That, however, isn’t the big problem.

What bothers me more is related to The Plan, but has more to do with personal relationships than school. First of all, my mom. She knows and agrees with me about going to community college and then on to university, but in her version of the story, I’d be staying at home with her through all of this. She found (through a couple of my blabbermouth friends and their blabbermouth moms) that Jim and I had discussed serious things such as moving in together and we had a falling out over it. She doesn’t seem to like him at all, thinks we’re both too immature to live on our own, and even went so far as to suggest he’s showing controlling tendencies (so not, I don’t even know where that came from). I don’t think she gives us the credit we deserve: we’ve thought this through rather thoroughly, have money saved away, done research into cost of living and things like that. I assured mom I wouldn’t make any decisions without a lot of thought, we made up, and I haven’t mentioned it sense.

But Sarah, I NEED to get out of this woman’s house. I love my mom, really, but if anyone is trying to control me, it’s her. My friends often marvel at the level of protectiveness she still holds over me at my age (doesn’t want me driving at night or to places I don’t know well, gets tweaked if I go ANYWHERE without giving her a full report first, blah blah blah neurotic-cakes), and I really think both of us could benefit from some space. When I’m the angriest at her, I fancy myself absconding in the middle of the night, leaving a note on the kitchen table to the tune of “So long and thanks for all the fish.” I’m yearning to start living a life where I don’t have to answer to her, to call her every time I change locations, to look at Jim and go, “Hey, let’s go driving in the woods for no reason at all.” But like I said, I do love Mom and don’t want to sever ties completely. Still, I can imagine her being very angry at me leaving, and maybe even spreading this around to the rest of my family. How do I handle this, when the time comes to leave, without having it turn ugly?

Thirdly, I’m worried about how The Plan will affect my friends. They know about moving in with Jim and going to community college, they just don’t know the Kentucky part. I’ve tried to hint to them, but always get a response like, “Ew, Kentucky? You don’t want to go there, stay in Austin with us, it’s more fun.” I’d like to stay in Austin, but I couldn’t afford to live here. I’m a bit afraid they’ll resent me for leaving, that they might think they don’t mean that much to me or that I’ve chosen Jim over them, but they’re dear to me and I want to keep them in my life. How to I get them to take me seriously and not be angry with me for “abandoning” them?

So, to re-cap: What should I tell the college counselor when she calls me in for a meeting and wants to know if I’ve chosen between Rice or Stanford? How do I tell my mom to butt out of my life, but not completely, and still get invited to the family reunions? And am I nuts for worrying that my friends will hate me if I move out of state? Thanks again for listening, and you have my permission to rag on my spelling and grammar.

Much love,
Monster

Dear Monster,

You tell the college counselor that you’re not on track for a four-year college at the moment, so you’d appreciate it if she’d try to work with your plan instead of trying to fit you into everyone else’s plans. You know, nicely.

As far as your mom goes…you’re 17. You don’t actually think you can just tell her to “butt out of your life” and get by with it, do you? Because I hate to tell you this, but she’s not abnormally controlling. Is it annoying? Sure. Do you want to tell her to get bent and do what you want? Of course. Welcome to adolescence.

Your letter reads like you think you’re really grown up and you have everything figured out, but it seems to me like your primary motivation is “Mom can’t tell me what to do anymore, so there.” Which isn’t going to work long-term, and I don’t think you’ve thought it through. Can you and Jim hack it in Kentucky? Probably — but you’ll be going from one situation where you’re not on your own straight into another one, with a guy you’ve been dating since you were 13, on whom you are going to be relying entirely in terms of knowing people, at an age when people go through a lot of changes in a very short time. The whole thing reads like rebelliousness to me — if you think everyone else is doing one thing, you want to do the opposite, not because it’s necessarily something you want to do, but because it’s opposite.

I don’t think your friends will hate you for moving, but I don’t think they’ll think it’s the greatest idea they’ve ever heard, either, and they’ll be right. If what you want is to be a director, you’re way better off staying in Austin to try to make that happen, or investigating four-year colleges with good film programs. I don’t think that’s something you really want; I think it’s something you say you want because you have no idea what’s involved, and what you really want is to play house with Jim and stay up as late as you want without your mom yelling at you.

You’ve probably heard all of this before from other people, and you’re probably going to blow it off all “you don’t get it, so don’t patronize me,” but that’s not what I’m doing. God bless my mother, but she ran me like a sled team at your age; I remember what it’s like. I’m not talking down to you. I’m telling you sincerely that a plan for living should not consist entirely of reacting against other people.

Sars,

Here’s my issue. I am convinced that all the people in the world can be
sorted into two basic categories: the haves and the have nots. It’s really
as simple as it seems — some people (for whatever reason, destiny, fate,
whatever) are bound to have sucessful, happy, satisfied lives, and some
people are bound to have none of that.

The problem I’m facing is that after 25 years, a lot of disappointment, a
lot of hurt, and a lot of wasted time, I’d put myself squarely in the have
nots group. Nothing has ever worked out for me; I went to school, got good
grades, didn’t drink or do drugs, all the things people (adults) were always
telling me to do. Now I’ve got a fairly decent job, a potential career, but
I couldn’t be more miserable.

I hate my life; I don’t have a real group of friends; I haven’t had a
significant other in about three years. I hang out most nights at my parents’ for
a while, then go home and watch TV. I would like for this to change, but I
think I’m too far gone for it to happen. I suffer from too many social
defects; I’m not outgoing, I’m nerdy, I’m a loner. I wouldn’t know where to
go if I decided to go out one night, and if I somehow managed to figure that
out, I’d never talk to anyone once I got there. I’ve been this way for so
long I don’t think there’s a way out.

Oh, and did I mention that I have an STD? Yeah, that’s the greatest part of
my life. My first “love” passed that on to me — somehow he failed to mention
that until after he’d already infected me. Awesome. So now, even if I met
someone and that someone wasn’t horribly put off by my lack of social graces
and beauty or my general weirdness, this pretty much will force them to go
running from me.

Yeah, therapy. Just not worth it to spend all that money and still be
miserable and lonely and fucked.

I guess there’s not much of a question in here; I’m bitter about the way my
life has shaped out. I could go on, but you’re not being paid to listen to
this shit and it would certainly take some time to sort all this out. Is
there any reason I shouldn’t just give in and end it? I can think of three
people who would care; I don’t see this ever ending. Once my parents die,
it’ll basically just be me. My sister just got married and lives her life
out of state. I don’t want to be some sad, loser oldster. It’s just not
worth it if my future lies in 40-50 years of meals for one and cats.

Thanks for listening anyhow.

Depressed

Dear Meals For One And Cats Rock, Missy,

God, I love letters like this — anticipating everything I might say, blowing it off in advance, and daring me to give any advice that will work. Thanks for the vote of confidence! You’re right — I’m powerless against the vortex of suck that is your life! Do yourself AND me a favor and just STICK YOUR HEAD IN THE OVEN ALREADY.

Is that what you wanted? Are you happy now? Yeah, I didn’t think so.

Look, your life does not sound like a picnic on Sunday to me, but it’s not really that bad. If it were my life, I’d be making some adjustments, but you’re not doing that because you’ve lost all hope, and that’s a really dangerous place to be — please, leave that place. Go get therapy, get a lot of it, get it right now — check yourself into a hospital or facility if you have to, but believe me, it just isn’t that bad. If you have the STD I think you have, girl, join the club. It’s big, that club, like “one out of every five sexually active adults in the U.S.” big, and people with that STD lead perfectly happy lives because they’re fine people who had some bad luck, just like you.

You don’t have to be cool to be happy. You don’t have to be pretty to be happy — and thank God, because right now I’m wearing mismatched pajamas and I have a huge zit on my chin, and my hair, let’s not talk about it. Nerdy people with big noses and social anxiety get married every day, but you don’t have to be married or with someone to be happy, either. You just have to find some good books and some good snacks and some people you like, and one of those people should be yourself.

Get your ass up out of that chair and go call a hotline. The three people who “would care,” you’ll break their hearts like you’re breaking mine with this. Give the rest of us a chance to care. Give yourself a chance. You’re 25. The story’s just starting. Don’t let it tell you, and don’t let it end yet.

Share!