When I worked lunch at the restaurant and served people who ate their salads with just the company of their book or BlackBerry - I'll admit it - I felt sorry for them. Time spent alone didn't seem like time spent at all to me. It was always a social purgatory, waiting for Jenn to get done with class so we could lay on the couch and giggle like morons. Waiting for Nick to ride his bike over so we could get dinner. It sounds creepy spelled out like that, like the Orwellian "ownlife", where going for a walk by yourself is considered suspicious.
Something weird has happened in Athens. I've sort of fallen in love with being by myself.
When you're in a relationship for a long time, you get swept up in collective thinking. You haven't really done something until you've told your partner about it. Do we behave the way we are, or do we perform what people expect of us? Being in a new place, then, can be as freeing as it is frightening. Who am I without my context?
Am I someone who makes an elaborate pancake brunch for myself, drinks an entire pot of coffee, and lights sparklers while Barack Obama takes the oath of the presidency? Yes. Yes I am.
(Happy Obama Day!)
1 comment:
I came to the realization 2 months in that I love being by myself as well. And the realization that I strongly dislike feeling tied down. Being alone rules! Come and go as you please. I think it's the pity and suspicion that make me feel like it's "wrong" or "strange" to be alone. To hell with the whole lot of them.
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