Not so much blogging as bitching.

Enough people vent in our society that I don't really think I should be one to add to it. Talking heads vent on news programs, women vent to loudly on their cellphones at the grocery store, and, when I was teaching, the teacher's lounge could have been called the bitching lounge with no exaggeration. All that being said, I'm about to vent myself.

You see, I find myself really annoyed tonight. I guess you could say, I'm annoyed by one thing that is a constant in our world: change. I don't mean I'm bothered by changing opinions or new technology like some idiotic neo-con. I'm annoyed by one specific type of change. I don't think it has a name yet, or an abridged descriptor that likens itself to a blog, so I'm going to invent a name for it now for the sake of writing. The type of change that annoys me most (and has me in a tizzy tonight) I am going to call: Affected Personality-Fondness Drift (APFD).

Now for the definition. APFD is a condition that affects old friends and relatives you haven't seen for a while, or people might see everyday. It affects your closest companion, often people you started out really respecting and enjoying rounds of beer with when you felt you couldn't talk to anyone else. They live their lives as these admirable, likable people for days, weeks, years, decades, and then The Drift happens. The Drift can be caused by many factors, though there are commons ones you might recognize. The Drift can be a new significant other, a change of region, or a new circle of friends (especially when the person with APFD is a teen). The Drift can be a new religion (though religion can also be a symptom of APFD) or a change in careers. No matter how long it takes between when the subject first contracts APFD until APFD is full-blown and mind-blowing, those around the person with APFD often describe the onset of the change as "sudden." Suddenly, the person likes things he or she detested before. For example, someone who once wore hemp and played hacky sack in the quad between classes can now be found on Monday night at some trendy sports bar watching football, something that same person used to describe as "barbaric." The distinguishing factor between APFD and a simple change of taste is that, in cases of APFD, the person's likes change for the worst, the person seems to de-evolve, and, when questioned, the person offers no explanation and insists "I always liked country. It's been my favorite music since I was a kid."

Ironically, the thing that made we want to write this blog was reading an old friend's blog-- a friend who my friends and I have been saying for a few years has APFD. We didn't call it that, of course, but list the symptoms above and mourn the loss of him to this day.

I was about to send him a link to a photo I thought he might appreciate, but when I went to look up his email on his Facebook page, I noticed he had a blog and went to it, curiously. Almost immediately, I felt like I couldn't possibly extend contact to this person, even though he once used to be one of my closest friends. Now, he is a stranger, more acutely than those I've simply lost touch with. You see, when I was young, I was lucky enough for a year or two to have waged some of the closest friendship I will ever have--friends of the type I will never have to feel ashamed or shy in front of, the types of friendships you can only make before a certain age or during a terrible tragedy such as sickness or battle. Perhaps some people reading this blog will know the guy I describe. Perhaps he will read this blog himself, but I doubt it. I doubt his new persona sits around reading the blogs of old friends.

When we knew him, he was humorous and childlike. He wanted to commit to nothing, and committed to everything at the same time, because that is what he thought you were supposed to do as you got older. He loved to talk about sex and make horribly off-color jokes when he met people for the first time. He wanted an exotic house on the water. He had never been on a plane. He was irreverent and cried easily in the darkness of a movie theater.

Sometime during his formative years, he had a mental breakdown. I'm sorry to use that kind of dramatic language in this atmosphere, but that's what it was. He no longer knew what was what. He didn't know what he wanted to do or where he was going. He began to drink a lot. He dated strings of ridiculously inappropriate women. He became a different person. He couldn't have a conversation with any of us without some foreign pretense that I don't even know how to describe. He became obsessed with seemingly random things: car engines, loofahs.

When he met his current wife, he was still half himself, I think. I remember talking to him on the phone and hearing him tell me he had cut back his drinking to impress her; she was very religious. He suddenly became religious. He went to bible study with her, stopped drinking completely, and began having whole conversations about God. When he wasn't talking about God, he still brought up God, fitting religion into every conversation, as if he has something to prove. He said that worst things that he could say about himself before we could say them. In his blog he described himself as "not one to get emotional." He cried more than I ever did during that time, often about almost anything. He always wanted to be something outspoken, like a lawyer or a speech writer. Now he's an artist of sorts, capturing everything with a silent viewpoint. He got married after a few months. That he always wanted, but he says he loves this wife he barely knows.

I am happy he seems to think he's happy, but I wonder how long he'll be able to suppress the true side of himself, his essence. After all, he had a breakdown once, a complete change of personality. I feel sorry for his wife and friends, and how they will feel when he can't keep it up any longer. Or maybe he'll keep it up forever, and I should feel sorry for him.