Last night I was lying awake, pondering the weird word of the internet journal "community" or what have you. Online friendships. I've made some great friendships online that have translated into the real world, but I've had the rug pulled out from under me too.

I've had to worry that I come off as having ulterior motives or an agenda, or that someone else has an agenda that I hadn't even considered. People are out there, climbing this not-quite-imaginary online journal social ladder. People want to fit me into a group or clique, and judge me based on their ideas of what the clique is. It's all very weird.

It got especially strange recently, whereupon I went back to Los Angeles and realized how comforting it is to have friends you don't have to constantly wonder about in this strange way. To be able to take friendship for granted rather than wondering to what degree is this person my real friend?

I am one of those people who enjoy a large social circle. I love getting to know people from all over the country; it's one of my favorite things about doing this. There's just something about this medium of communication that makes it easier to misjudge where you fall on the friend-spectrum. It makes the imbalances more glaring, and possibly more embarrassing when they happen.

This is the type of entry that people will read and wonder if it's them I'm talking about. My friends know who they are, but there are plenty of people in the maybe-friend or wannabe-friend or cool-person-I'd-like-to-befriend categories also. Navigating that can get kind of tricky.

I hope that I'm not misunderstood. I hope that I'm not judged based on who my friends are or are not. But I'm not naive enough to believe this is always the case.

I don't even really know why I've been thinking about this so much. Here is a possibly related little story.

I got an envelope the other day from the agency that handled my adoption, way back in the day. It was a confirmation of my change-of-address form, which I finally got around to filling out. Basically, if either of my birth parents ever fills out a "consent for contact" form, we'll be put in touch. I filled one out as soon as I turned 18; they never have. Most of the time I don't really think about it.

Later that day-- you know how you sometimes catch yourself thinking something? Like you don't even realize where your train of thought has gone until you pull up at "what the hell?" station? I was thinking that they would be happy to find out that I had so many friends, because clearly it was proof that I was loveable.

This stopped me up short. Is this why I want people to like me? Is this why I am like a puppy dog, eager for everyone to find me adorable? Is this why I take rejection so personally? Is this the key to my psychology?

I was telling Tim this story (actually Tim is the only person who has heard this story until now) and he said he doesn't really think about me being adopted, except in the context of "thank god I am not biologically related to these people" jokes about my parents. I feel the same way; it's honestly not something I think about very much. But I wonder how much of it is a fundamental part of my personality nonetheless.

He also pointed out that clearly, it wasn't that they gave me away because they didn't like me. And intellectually I understand that. As Tim said, they never even met me. But at the same time, I still have these thoughts. For instance: if I became a famous celebrity (liked by people on a major scale), they might decide they wanted to meet me. Or maybe if they saw the Friends finale about adoption and started thinking about finding me. And I want to be a person who, if my biological parents met me, they would like and find charming.

Oh and here's another interesting tidbit that I've never shared with anyone: I used to think about how, if they met me, they might be disappointed that I was fat. I guess that's just a sub-set of the "I hope this person doesn't think I'm a lazy cow" that every overweight person feels, but it sounds a little more awful to say you hope your hypothetical biological parents won't be disapproving of your physical shape.

Isn't that what we'd be looking for, though? "Do I have his eyes?" "Do I have her ass?" I always hoped I'd have a chubby biological mom so that we could bond over that, and so I'd have genetic plausible deniability. Kind of ridiculous and also probably moot.

I don't have any sort of big traumatic need to reunite with my birth parents or anything, just mostly curiosity. It seems so strange to me that I might never know a single thing about the people who gave me life. I will never see their faces. I will never know the beginnings of my own life story.

The adoption agency offers to do non-identifying "research" for $150. I wonder what I'd get for $150. what kind of information they would find. Maybe it would say, "You are a descendent of James Joyce, your grandmother died of spontaneous combustion, and your father has eczema." I have no idea.

Okay, so that was quite a profound digression. I guess my point is that sometimes I put myself out there, and maybe I put myself out there too much (and maybe I'm doing it even as we speak), and maybe there's something about me that explains why.

Or maybe it will appear to you that I have this desperate aching need to be loved, and so my genuine interest in and liking for people is somehow invalid or insincere. But if people are going to come to that conclusion about me, maybe I don't want to be friends with them after all. Maybe that's something I need to learn. Fuck 'em if they can't take a joke, right?

It's pretty rare, I think, that someone gains a real insight into what makes them tick. It feels very naked, and possibly important, and worth writing out and thinking about. So there you go. If you ever wanted to know who I am, here's another piece of the puzzle.