Sad, sad Joseph

I was reading about Ben and his girlfriend's recent breakup on the Internet Movie Database earlier today and thinking, "I sure hope that Affleck finds happiness," when I came to a sad sort of realization.
I follow popular culture with a dedication that few have, in part because I love it, but also in part because I believe that it will be important in conversations that I eventually will have. Many of the most satisfying conversations that I have ever had surrounded popular culture and its societal implications. Unfortunately, aside from Dianna, none of the friends that I currently see from day to day follow or care about pop culture. I watch music videos for artists that my friends won't love or hate with me. I read reviews of movies that my friends will probably never see with me. I spend a lot of my life studying for Movie and Music Trivial Pursuit games that my friends would never consent to play with me.
Sadly, pop culture is central to my language. I feed on the intellectual rallies that come from the social implications of Mary Kate and Ashley. I want discuss whether being unapologetically derivative hurts the artistic relevance of Interpol or The Killers or helps it. I want to 'get' every reference made in any episode of the Family Guy. I want to do all of this while maintaining an ironic pseudo-apathy about it all. But my pseudo-apathy for pop culture disintegrates when it comes in contact with the genuine article.
So I watch the videos, I read the reviews, I keep up on tour dates, even though the rarely have Reno among the listed cities. I get to laugh knowingly during VH1's Best Week Ever and E!'s What The Awards, and I get imaginary conversations with Matt and Doug. I listen to the 24 hour New Wave mix tape on The New Station and the Major-Lable-Pseudo-Indie-Bands on KRZQ and imagine that I was driving with Andrew, sharing a ceaseless series of anecdotes relating to the musicians being played.
But my friends now primarily care about people, clients, coworkers, friends. Their concerns deal with work or relationships or their communities. In contrast, I am essentially shallow. While I sometimes care about people and things of actual relevance, I do so without the outward passion I have for Kubrik, Delillo, Lenny, Atom, or for that matter Ben.
Vanessa once told me that I had an easy time with people because I like most of them. I was shocked, because I think that just the opposite is true. In fact, I just don't really care about most people enough to actively dislike them. Disliking people, really disliking them requires a level of interpersonal engagement that I seek with very few people. Disliking Jay-Z on the other hand requires no such engagement, nor, in fact does loving Jonathan Demme.
Dianna can rally with me, usually sending things my way that I hadn't thought about. She can participate from an informed stance in extensive pop culture debates, and usually genuinely challenges my stupider (if more bombasticlly self assured) assertions. But coming from a school where most of the people I interacted with seemed to have similarly shallow, pop-focused minds as mine or the ability to access that part of their own minds; coming from a peer group that went to movies weekly and passionately debated the meaning of even the stupidest movies afterward in the lobby, even with Dianna's brilliant contribution to my internal pop White Noise, the majority of my conversations every day force me to realize that there is very little depth or sincerity in my interaction with the world. More important than the reoccuring realization that I might just be unusually shallow and cold, is the realization that I really prefer it that way and wouldn't change it if I could.
Thank you Ben, thank you.