Where they are is who you were.

c. David Grim (taken 7/4/08)

Sometimes it's strange to think about how people move in and out of my life. Most of us have "stable" family units to which we'll be connected most of our lives. It doesn't necessarily mean that we we'll live with them, or even see them that often, but we will likely be somehow in contact with them for years. No doubt we'll have some idea what they are up to- where they live, what job they have, and what leisure activities they are enjoying.

After that it's pretty much a crap shoot. Many folks have friends at work, and if they stay at the same place of employment for awhile, their co-workers will form a part of their "consistent" circle/community. Still, we live in an era marked by lateral mobility, and people are perhaps a bit leery about investing too much in their workplace.

We go through stages of our lives, and what we involve ourselves in when we have the choice often dictates the type of people that we will be around, and who we choose as friends. If I go out to the bars a lot, I'm likely to hang out with drinkers. But when I focus on hanging out with my kid, I'm generally going to lose touch with the barflies. It's a shame too, because a sense of continuity offered by interacting with the same friends on a regular basis helps provide clues about who we are. If we change things up drastically, we risk becoming isolated and adrift. There are definitely people that I miss touching base with, and I suspect that there's also a corresponding part of myself that is lying dormant as a result.

A Peculiar Find.

c. David Grim (taken 3/5/10)

Last weekend's Unblurred (the monthly art walk along the Penn Avenue corridor) turned out to be a lot of fun. It's not that I was particularly blown away by any specific show (although a lot of it ended up being worth seeing), but rather that I was accompanied by several artist friends during the evening.

If you ever get a chance to go gallery hopping with a group of visual artists, I heartily recommend it. The collective cynicism and varied tastes lead to interesting discussions. I don't think that we all agreed on any single exhibition of work, and that made it all the more amusing. But by far the highlight of the evening happened at a boutique on the periphery.

I had heard that this specific place was having a clearance sale to make room for new stuff, so I made sure to drag our little group inside. We had a quick look around before deciding to move on, and we were on our way out when one of us stopped and stared at a little painting on a nondescript rack. He exclaimed, "Hey, I did that. That's one of my paintings!", and turned it around to show us his signature. We marveled at that for a minute before leaving.

On our way out, we noticed that our friend was lingering and speaking in hushed tones to the owner. They looked up at us awkwardly as we waited. Of course, our friend walked through the exit, painting in hand. In response to our inquiries he mentioned that he bought the aforementioned painting for $25. It had originally sold for $800. We all got a kick out of that.