Anne Shirley makes me idealistic and disappointed

Last night's post was occasioned not only by the fact that I'm reading the Anne books right now, but also by the fact that I'm in a position to decide whether or not to make the effort to continue some friendships that have been faltering for the past year or so. It's all come to a head in the past couple weeks. Without going into too much detail, I know my friends won't make the effort. If we're ever going to talk, ever going to see each other, it's going to have to be because I called, or because I tried to make plans. And by "make plans," I mean, "ask what they're doing so I might be included in their plans" - because that phone call certainly never includes a "What do you feel like doing?" or a "Sure, we'll come to your place." At most, the response I get is "We're doing X. You can meet us."

And I'm no perfect friend, either, as evidenced by the fact that I whine and complain about it and can't gracefully forgive or live and let live.

So the question at hand is whether it's worth my time and energy to maintain a friendship that in no way resembles or approaches Anne's ideal.