"Your problem," she'd tell me, matter-of-factly, "is that you spread yourself too thin. You certainly can be a friend to a great many people, but you can be a better friend if you limit yourself to a very few."

She infuriated me when she said things like that, and she did it all the time. My mother, who has had three friends total that I can name. Back then there were only two. At least she preached what she practiced, my mom. But she's an introvert, doesn't like social gatherings, congregations, or celebrations. When I, her high school drop-out, graduated from college with a Bachelor of Arts degree, I had to demand her presence at my graduation... I'm only lucky that it wasn't an all-out fight to convince her to go.

A friend of mine, and I do have several, said something to me the other day that was perhaps the most moving compliment I've ever been given. She said that being around me was like being around a great flame, that joy spreads out from me and touches everyone within my radius. She said that when someone passes through my bubble, and then out again, life seems darker, tamed-down, and somewhat dulled in comparison. She said she has "comming down" time after her visits with me.

I've always been aware of having this kind of effect on people, but I had never had someone describe it in a way that was so very endearing and warmly delivered.

However, you know, it works both ways. One of my job responsibilities is incredibly depressing some days, and my boss mentioned that I'm only allowed to have good days, happy days,  from now on, because when I'm sad, the mood of the whole office changes. It's not fair really, to ask me to be "on" all the time. But it is true that if I even have a mellow day, where I'm not sad, but not feeling insanely enthusiatic, either, people ask what's wrong all day long. It's like they expect a constant act, a constant performance, a constant on.

I suppose I have indeed spread myself too thin. I've taken on so many friendships that I don't have time to maintain any of them as well as I'd like to. Each of the people I count as important to me deserves more of my attention and consideration than they are currently getting. I have so many hobbies that I barely have time to concentrate on any of them. I've always thought that to be able to play a great many games with a little bit of skill was better than to play a very few games incredibly well. But I don't play games to win, I play them for the fun of the time spent playing.

I don't know how to weed a garden of such wonderful friends, and so I suppose I shall continue without doing any weeding at all. Rather as a bee, flittering from one flower to another, spending bits of time enjoying the nectar of life together with each, before moving on to the next, always busy, always moving right along, and on it's way somewhere, returning another time, another day. It's a bit hectic, and I tend to prefer quality over quanity, as do the people I choose as my dearest companions.

What a kunundrum--oh, how I hated that she lectured me about spreading myself too thin, and how right she always eventually turns out to be... How can I light a room when I've had no time to rejuvenate? How can I be a dear friend, the kind of person I mean to be, if I've no time to catch up? How can I be on, if I've left myself no time to be off?

How do you weed the garden of life?