Hi..
I have stuff to say.. Observations from the job..
As I was on my lunch break, there were a number of others gathered at the staff breakroom table, eating their snacks/dinners as well.. And a couple of them started talking about, probably regrets, of having to come home each night to an empty home.
I work with a number of women, mostly. In fact, our branch library has literally one male employee. He's around my age, too, so that's nice. But the two women who were talking about coming home to an empty house were older, one probably forties, the other probably fifties.
Anyway, since I never participate in group conversations, I thought I'd relay some thoughts here. Stuff I might've/would've said.
One, most of all being, they're kinda sad about it, but.. I wish I could come home to an empty house. I'd give anything for that again. That's when I was my absolute happiest. On my own. With no one to bother me.
The older one was saying it'd be nice to have someone to come home to, talk about your day with and such. I, for one, was never into talking about my day. It's just.. not interesting to me. I'd much rather talk about a thought that occurred to me than what I did, or what happened during my day. But that talk, thought talk, is reserved only for those close to me. And, well.. I don't really have anyone I consider "close" to me right now.
But anyway.. I'm straying..
My personal preference is to come home to silence. And to wake up to silence. I like silence. And I like being by myself. Sometimes I wonder if I'm some kind of freak or something, however, because, apparently, that's not the norm.
But.. furthermore.. I would much rather live on my own. Because my home, my personal space, is my haven. And if I'm sharing that personal space with anyone, it's like.. it soon comes to be that I feel like my personal space is being invaded. And living with someone constantly, it's like.. I don't really get that quiet time to myself to relax, regroup, recharged. I'm just continually being drained. And it wears on me.
All this I know. And I've known. I just have yet to figure out how to soley support myself so I can live that dream of solitude.
I dream of being alone. Crazy, huh? What's wrong with me? Do I always have to do the opposite of everyone else..?
Oh. And another thing. Another person from work mentioned that, when she lived alone, she would write in her journal after she got home from work. But that she probably burned them when she got married because there was "a lot of bad stuff."
Someone commented that that was smart. 'Makes sense. But I have to wonder.. is that not an ultimate and final act of losing your separate sense of self? Your identity? What makes you you?
I think think that's horrible. I identify very closely with what I write and have written for a long time in my journals/diaries. It's my history. And, I dunno.. I just find that very important. I often think of my life as a neverending fascinating story. An epic movie. Sappy, I know, but.. I do.
But.. I dunno.. who cares about "bad stuff." What you've done, what you've thought.. it's a part of you, for better or worse. We are not permanent. We are constantly changing. What you were is not what you are now, but.. shit..
I read once in some book [now I'm getting really vague] at how most people would cringe at the thought of having people read their diaries, have all their secrets revealed, when they're dead. The author attributed it as a characteristic of a social being. And, again, I differ from other social beings because, hell.. once I die, I would love to have everyone I know read my shit find find out all my secrets. Everything I've hidden for years. It would be the ultimate release. And, furthermore.. it wouldn't matter because I'd be dead.
But.. back to that symbolic act of losing your separate identity. That's the thing I probably hate most about marriage. It's like.. you have to give up part of yourself and merge with this other person. And a perfect example of society's take on this "merging" is that, once you marry, you will no longer be receiving cards and gifts as you, the individual. It's now, "Mr. and Mrs.".. you and your husband.. and so forth.. [Except, of course, and thankfully, for your birthday.]
Someone has died.
Yes, I can be very.. unromantic, at times..
But.. yeah, I know the whole Buddha thing about how we are all one and everything, but.. right now, I just really pride myself on being this separate, individual, person. And I don't want anyone to take that away. Or to let me.
LJ