I've been imprisoned in my own apartment now for approximately 8 hours. It is proving to be an unbearable torture. The plumber said he'd be here between 11am and 5pm and now it is a quarter to 7.
My friends often tell me I have a problem. A problem that is usually described as an issue of lacking the ability to be alone; that I need someone to be with me at all times in order to maintain a sense of ease, a sense of happiness. But that isn't true. "Oh you are never home, Meetka" they say, "Maybe you should try to spend more time alone and sit with your thoughts for once." I don't know who decided that everyone needs to be in total solitude regularly in order to think straight. I just prefer to be alone in a sea of people than to wither away in my apartment...I understand the homebody but I don't identify with them. I also know people who truly do have some sort of anxiety around alone-ness, and not loneliness. Two radically different things. I often find compelling quips from people who live in New York that go something like "In a city of 8 million people, I feel totally alone." I would never say that. I feel like I live with 8 million people and I don't want any of them to leave.
Being trapped in my apartment all day is only strengthening my desire to go be outside. This is pure torture. I just had a cigarette in my stairwell, looking out the window that faces the backs of 4 buildings, so I couldn't see any signs of city life though I could hear them, only emboldening my sense of imprisonment.
I woke up knowing that my day was vulnerable in the hands of a plumber's schedule. I know how these windows of time work. When someone is to come within a window of time, they seldom come at all. I had my morning coffee before I had to turn myself in. It felt like the last morning of my life. I crossed paths with people I knew, smiling at them as though my day was just like any other. I got back to my apartment at 10am so I would have an hour to shower, shave, and do all my skincare things. I sat on the floor of my shower, planning my day forgetting that those plans were mere pipe-dreams. I was going to call Anya, a postcard distributor who I ran into yesterday. I wanted to see if she wanted to get a coffee in SoHo and talk about men. But 10 minutes went by before I remembered my pale demise. I got out of the shower and as I flossed my teeth, I began to crave a tuna panini and a lemon soda from this place in Little Italy I like.
After I finished all 6 steps of my beauty routine, and doing my hair, I thought maybe enough time had passed and the plumber would have called to say he was here. But he didn't. I was starved by hour 2 of my sentence. I ordered a bone broth and a cold salad from some chain restaurant. A ghastly mistake. I tried to watch a film but I couldn't for it reminded me too much of the outside world.
By being out in the city all day and all night, I am filled with a great sense of purpose. A sense of purpose I can't seem to find in my apartment. Music sounds better on the streets, the sounds of busses and and people and the gates being slammed opened or closed, great smells and bad odors emanating from all sorts of things, and all of the handsome men to make eyes at. All of the men to fear. The crazies, the rapists, the attackers, the exes, the lovers, the new friends, the gays...
Just yesterday I saw many lovers new and old. at around 10:30AM, I walked by a sports bar on Rivington Street, where I made eyes with a dashing man adorned with a Roman nose, who seemed a bit taken by me. Sadly however, it was an evil firefighter I slept with once after a strange encounter by the fire station. At around 6pm, an Irish man I stayed up all night kissing and talking with on Thursday came into my work to say hello. He's in some sort of punk band and ever since that night I keep having thoughts about him. He's just here on holiday though and I can't wait for him to go back to wherever he came from so I can stop wondering if he'll take me out again. The only thing protecting me from that fate is my house arrest.
It is also everyone else, not the just lovers. There is a girl who works at the coffee shop I go to every morning who I have been historically cordial with. Simple morning interactions, pointless small talk we all fall victim to. Occasionally a laugh or a shared complaint we could both revel in. However, since I returned from a trip to Tokyo, she has gone completely cold to me. I asked her coworker if it was personal, if I needed to apologize for something I was blind to. Her coworker said that she just didn't like me anymore. I was a bit pinched initially after hearing this, but now I am appreciative.
I feel that being around people is a battery for me, not too dissimilar from those who say they need to spend time in the sun to feel charged. Being around other people, strangers and friends alike, is my sunbathing. I've never told someone who has a need for sunlight that they are going to get cancer and die or that they are afraid of the dark. I get it! We just need different things in order to feel the same sense of standardized internal order.
So now my energy is terribly depleted today, having been trapped up here, 5 stories above where I'd rather be. I don't care how stubborn this whole spiel makes me sound, I have always needed to be around people because I love them. Without people...I'd be nothing! I'll just spend my 'alone time' in another life.
