Being alone

A few years ago, I discovered how much I enjoy my own company, and started relishing my time alone. If I wanted to go to a restaurant, I'd go. If I was bored at home, I'd take my book to a coffeeshop. Shopping, biking, sightseeing, I did it. It was something I had to push myself into, because at first, I just wanted to assert my independence, and remind myself that I could do it, but after a while, it became a habit. The only thing I never mastered was sitting at a bar alone, but after a failed attempt at smoking (for something to do with the hands), I decided it didn't really matter, and I was still an independent woman even without a regular attachment to a neighborhood bar.

It must be the culture of cities, though. Here, being alone just means being lonely. The wait staff wouldn't know what to do if I brought a book into a restaurant and ate by myself. Everything revolves around doing things with other people.

But Saturday night, after I went rollerblading in the park, I felt like doing something. I started driving out to Sonic for a blended Coke float, but then I decided to go to a movie instead. I hadn't planned on it, so I didn't know what was showing, but I was in time for Fever Pitch, which, well, I had nothing against. So I got some stale popcorn and a Coke slush, and settled in for the movie.

It was lovely. It made me feel so good about myself that I was able to entertain myself on a Saturday night, instead of sitting at home watching videos or being online. Being here has made me doubt myself so much. I didn't even think I was the same person who lived in Chicago half a year ago. But this little thing made me feel like I was back.