hard habit to break
Living alone has never appealed to me.Growing up an only child, with two working parents, in a no-sidewalks suburb, on a street with no kids – I spent a lot of time alone. I got really good at amusing myself. I can’t speak to what goes on in anyone else’s head, but what goes on in mine can keep me occupied for days at a time with very little external stimulus. Sometimes in movies when there’s that scene with the guy locked in solitary confinement or stranded on a desert island or languishing alone in a bamboo POW cage in the jungle, I think, Yeah. I could do that.
Which is not to say it would be my preference. Moving into a dorm at seventeen was majestic. There were people everywhere. There were people hanging out in the TV lounge and cooking in the kitchen, people to chat with while brushing your teeth and people in the hall at three in the morning. And though people come with problems – messes and noise and missing food – I decided I never wanted to live alone again.
Since college I have shared one residence after another, with friends and significant others and strangers from craigslist. I have lived with other people, without exception, all the way up until last March when I bought a house of my own. And then, for a few months, I lived by myself.
I didn’t really like it. I didn’t like coming home and knowing no one would be there, and I hated falling asleep aware of empty rooms all around me. I stopped cooking very often because it’s not so fun, cooking for one – and because if I was out of eggs or cinnamon there were no one else’s to borrow. I know that for some people this would be a boon, all that privacy and quiet, everything just how you left it. But it’s not what I’m after.
So as soon as I could manage I got housemates. And technically I have one now. He’s a new college grad, just setting up in Portland. But he works construction jobs all around the state for weeks at a time, without coming back through town. When he’s here he stays with his girlfriend – something about her place having an oven and central heat. It works out well for everyone: I get a check that helps me make my mortgage, and he gets a well-located spot to stash his stuff. We both get to be independent grown-ups.
And I’ve noticed of late that living alone has its sweet spots. For example last night after I walked home from work, under a sky that’s light a little later every day now, I threw my boots on the floor and cranked up a Chicago Greatest Hits album I’d found at the public library bookstore on my lunch hour. I fried up eggs and plantains while belting out What Kind of Man Would I Be. There may have been some dancing.
So it’ll do, for now. I’m growing into my space and letting it all feel just like me. And maybe I have been given this time as a little calm before the storm, as a respite to get grounded and get ready. Because really what I’d like is for this house to be more full of people than is reasonable – friends and family and at least one sloppy dog, people who stop by unannounced and stay too long. I’m already keeping the fridge stocked with beer. I have a sofa now, and a number of things to sit on, some of them chairs.
It is nice, having things that are mine: a roof and rooms, time and tomatoes. I could get even more used to it than I have already. But I think instead I'll give it away.
posted by tortaluga @ 1:28 PM
2 Comments:
Ooooh, come back soon, please. I'm in withdrawal...
" I can’t speak to what goes on in anyone else’s head, but what goes on in mine can keep me occupied for days at a time with very little external stimulus."
Yep, this is definitely the right blog! Love your writing J! Glad you found a way to share what's going on in your head!
Miss you!
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