Living Alone
Throughout college, I had bouts of living by myself - a semester here and there. Usually, it only felt like I lived alone because my roommate was always at her boyfriend's house and by "boyfriend" I mean whatever guy she decided was in the mood for mind altering sex, ultimately followed by a total mind altering manipulation of their emotions. It was one hell of a battlefield - I saw a lot of good men fall that year. And I'm not sure sex with her was mind altering, but for the shit my roommates put men through, they had to be doing something right.
I have lived by myself for a while now, but I was living in transition - a new place every three months and there were people dropping in for days at a time.... well, for the night, anyway. And by people I mean some drunk I picked up by convincing him I was Jenna Jamison's sister and that I was the "talented" one. It just never seemed like I lived alone because whenever I was feeling lonely, there were always friends close by to go have a beer with. Well, a beer, two gin-tonics, one 7/7 and one shot of Jager. Nevertheless, there was never isolation.
Now, however, I truly live alone. I thought the best part of this would be watching porn constantly, eating chicken wings, and wiping my hands on my t-shirt. It should be said that I lived with four men during my final year of college, so this would not be all to different that what I was used to. I thought I would enjoy the solidarity, that I would relish the time to finally get those pictures in an album, to take up a foreign language, maybe even do projects around the house. Well, it's been a month since I moved into my house and lets just say, I am no Martha fucking Stewart, that's for damn sure. I am appalled by my lack of ambition and motivation to do, well, anything at all. I haven't felt this lazy since I was sedated in West Texas. Word of caution, never enter a Southern Baptist Church drunk, screaming you are carrying the next Messiah because Jesus just fucked you in the 7-11 on Route 92 - it's sort of frowned upon there. But, getting back to my house and my drive to be perfect. Yeah, not this year, asshole. Lately, I have found myself seeing the footage from Hurricane Dennis and say, "What's the big deal - it looks pretty clean to me. Whiners." My house is full of shit - not actual shit, but I can't be sure.
After I get home, I just don't want to do anything. This includes unpacking, picking up dirty socks on the bathroom floor, or actually opening mail. What's worse it that although I've yet to wrangle all of the stuff I already have, I keep buying more, see Broke. Gluttony and Sloth - shooting 2 of 7 from the field, folks. Now, I understand that this is how some people's lives work - I've lived with a couple of them, but that's not me. A place for everything and everything in it's place, that's me. Counters are wiped and garbage thrown away before going to bed, that's me. Bed made prior to leaving the house in the morning, that's me. Cleaning the camera lens to catch the neighbors having sex, that's me. Currently, I haven't even put sheets on the bed... how totally pathetic. I mean, it's not as pathetic as going without sex for three years, but it's got to be right up there.
I'm an engineer, everything is logical and has a purpose and a reason for being. (Well, except God - but that's a whole 'nuther can of worms). I don't have any "real friends" here, the kind that stop over or need to crash at my place, so there is no real motivation. That and there's just been way too much porn on to get anything accomplished. I know what you're thinking, how is it possible for this hot chick with tons of personality not have people over 24-7. I ask myself the same thing. People at work are SO LAME and I just haven't really found anywhere to make a connection with people here. The Y, forget it. Church, ummm... yeah no. The delivery guy, well, I think I may have freaked him out. Let's just say the last time I tried to order, they said they couldn't deliver to my house pending the current investigation. There are a lot of great bars here, last time I went out here (grad school), the night ended with a girl in tears, two guys in a fight, and a fly in my friend's salad. How can that not have been a good time?!
Where am I going with this? Shit, I am not real sure. But, I sort of promised TBC that I would put an honest effort into this. He doesn't actually know I made this promise to him because it was in my head, but whatever. Tonight, I am starting the move-in process. Enough is enough. Additionally, a guy is going to be living with me for part of the week during the upcoming school year; that gives me a month and seeing how the last thing I put my mind to, college, took me 7 years to finish (and no, I'm not a doctor), I better not waste another moment.
I have lived by myself for a while now, but I was living in transition - a new place every three months and there were people dropping in for days at a time.... well, for the night, anyway. And by people I mean some drunk I picked up by convincing him I was Jenna Jamison's sister and that I was the "talented" one. It just never seemed like I lived alone because whenever I was feeling lonely, there were always friends close by to go have a beer with. Well, a beer, two gin-tonics, one 7/7 and one shot of Jager. Nevertheless, there was never isolation.
Now, however, I truly live alone. I thought the best part of this would be watching porn constantly, eating chicken wings, and wiping my hands on my t-shirt. It should be said that I lived with four men during my final year of college, so this would not be all to different that what I was used to. I thought I would enjoy the solidarity, that I would relish the time to finally get those pictures in an album, to take up a foreign language, maybe even do projects around the house. Well, it's been a month since I moved into my house and lets just say, I am no Martha fucking Stewart, that's for damn sure. I am appalled by my lack of ambition and motivation to do, well, anything at all. I haven't felt this lazy since I was sedated in West Texas. Word of caution, never enter a Southern Baptist Church drunk, screaming you are carrying the next Messiah because Jesus just fucked you in the 7-11 on Route 92 - it's sort of frowned upon there. But, getting back to my house and my drive to be perfect. Yeah, not this year, asshole. Lately, I have found myself seeing the footage from Hurricane Dennis and say, "What's the big deal - it looks pretty clean to me. Whiners." My house is full of shit - not actual shit, but I can't be sure.
After I get home, I just don't want to do anything. This includes unpacking, picking up dirty socks on the bathroom floor, or actually opening mail. What's worse it that although I've yet to wrangle all of the stuff I already have, I keep buying more, see Broke. Gluttony and Sloth - shooting 2 of 7 from the field, folks. Now, I understand that this is how some people's lives work - I've lived with a couple of them, but that's not me. A place for everything and everything in it's place, that's me. Counters are wiped and garbage thrown away before going to bed, that's me. Bed made prior to leaving the house in the morning, that's me. Cleaning the camera lens to catch the neighbors having sex, that's me. Currently, I haven't even put sheets on the bed... how totally pathetic. I mean, it's not as pathetic as going without sex for three years, but it's got to be right up there.
I'm an engineer, everything is logical and has a purpose and a reason for being. (Well, except God - but that's a whole 'nuther can of worms). I don't have any "real friends" here, the kind that stop over or need to crash at my place, so there is no real motivation. That and there's just been way too much porn on to get anything accomplished. I know what you're thinking, how is it possible for this hot chick with tons of personality not have people over 24-7. I ask myself the same thing. People at work are SO LAME and I just haven't really found anywhere to make a connection with people here. The Y, forget it. Church, ummm... yeah no. The delivery guy, well, I think I may have freaked him out. Let's just say the last time I tried to order, they said they couldn't deliver to my house pending the current investigation. There are a lot of great bars here, last time I went out here (grad school), the night ended with a girl in tears, two guys in a fight, and a fly in my friend's salad. How can that not have been a good time?!
Where am I going with this? Shit, I am not real sure. But, I sort of promised TBC that I would put an honest effort into this. He doesn't actually know I made this promise to him because it was in my head, but whatever. Tonight, I am starting the move-in process. Enough is enough. Additionally, a guy is going to be living with me for part of the week during the upcoming school year; that gives me a month and seeing how the last thing I put my mind to, college, took me 7 years to finish (and no, I'm not a doctor), I better not waste another moment.
posted by Nicole @ 12:27 PM
2 Comments:
At 7/20/2005 10:15 AM,
The Big Cheese said…
I really love living alone. Well, it is nice to have someone around if you need to talk about your feelings but still, I like the privacy.
At 7/21/2005 4:22 PM,
Melissa is... said…
I have to agree with the cheese - at first I hated it and loved it when people would be over MY PLACE - now I miss it and wish I could have that solitude I miss so much.
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