I always liked and generally preferred to be alone, until I put myself in a situation where I didn't have a choice in the matter. When I decided to move to San Francisco, I knew Robin and I would have to be apart for a while, but I figured I'd be OK because I still had some lingering friends in the city, and a few close friends outside of it in Berkeley. But I think I underestimated just how little time I'd actually be able to spend with those people. My work schedule owns my week and I'm barely able to wake up in the morning when I haven't had a drop of alcohol the night before, let alone when I'm handicapped by the brutal hangovers that have blessed me in my 30s, so I'm unable to really go out and enjoy myself on weekday nights like I could in Vermont (I guess freelance was good for that).
When I came out here I anticipated meeting people and making friends at work, but nobody at work hangs out with each other outside of it, and more bizarrely, nobody even really talks to each other in the offices, and when they do, it's not above a whisper because everyone's so awkward about talking or making any sound whatsoever. The other day one of the girls in the office accidentally had her Spotify linked to her work computer instead of her phone, so randomly, like a siren blessing the deepest depths of hell, music started to play. Hark! What is this beautiful sound I doth hear with mine ears? Is it... But how... It sounds like... Could it be... Music? Bless my soul and this sweet sweet sound! It went on for about 30 seconds before everyone realized it wasn't a ringtone, and then everyone awkwardly shifted in their seats while two grown men frantically attempted to stop the tune and restore the office to its normal state of deafening silence. And let me just say, that that one minute and thirty seconds of an actual, audible melody coming from those shitty laptop speakers was the most comfortable minute and thirty seconds I have spent in this office since my first day here, and maybe that one other day where I actually had some work to do and actually knew how to do it.
Since nobody talks to each other, and nobody hangs out with each other, work days are excruciatingly lonely, which only succeeds in making them excruciatingly long. I spend lunch breaks completely alone, when I even bother to take them and don't opt to skip lunch and leave work an hour early. I smoke far more cigarettes than I'd like to just because it's an excuse to get up and move around, particularly away from the World's Most Muted Office (Tagline: "Shhh"). I check my phone constantly, hoping for any kind of communication from the outside world, but it is limited considering that somebody decided to build a copper museum in basically the middle of the woods and make everyone work in the basement of it. Going outside to smoke provides not only an average of 7,000 extra steps a day because you basically have to walk a mile to get outside and to a respectable distance, but also an extra moment of exhilaration that somebody might have texted me and it might finally come through. I sit on a variety of benches off the property and sigh when it reaches the end, because I've run out of things to look at on my phone and I can only kill a couple more minutes sitting here until I have to go back to the cave of solitude and pretend to have something to work on for the next two hours until it's subtle enough for me to slip out again. Sometimes, I even say fuck it and light up another one, even though it always tastes like shit.
I also anticipated meeting people at the Red Victorian, the hostel-type community house I stayed at for the first month I was out here. There's dozens of rooms and different people staying in them all the time. There were 4 bunks in the room I stayed in and different people filtered in and out of the other beds during my time there, but people rarely made contact with other people, and only one 23-year-old Australian techie transplant was cool or brave enough to engage with the other people in the room, making friends with everyone for his week's visit before jet setting off to Hong Kong because money and youth and possibility and youth and money. I found that typically after work, I was so exhausted from somehow successfully making it through another day in San Francisco without having a complete meltdown that all I really wanted to do was rest. I didn't have the energy or the capacity to talk to other people, or try to make friends. Being social with new people has oftentimes just felt like yet another chore or task I need to complete, on top of the thousand other things I've had to do on my own since getting here. I found that if it was something I could put off, I might as well until I'm less physically and emotionally exhausted by life. So as a result, I met few people at the Red Victorian, a house where there probably would have been a multitude of excellent people to befriend, had I felt I was able to.
Many of my friends who are still out here from our college years together, of which there are about 3, all have their own lives and social circles and cultures and happenings already established. I just found out my friend Ryan who was my connection at Google just got engaged to his girlfriend and is expecting twins. Fucking twins, dude. I don't expect anybody expecting twins to give two shits about me, and yes I meant that pun. Marissa is a beautiful, free-spirited party girl who makes her own schedule around her party lifestyle which usually leads to her doing the bulk of her work between the hours of 2 and 4am. She's the kind of girl who won't call you first, but will always call you back, and I am always guaranteed a good time with her, as much as I am always guaranteed a hangover the next day. Craig is an amazing friend who is always participating in something awesome and often invites me along, and who is always trying to help out my situation as much as possible, showing me a great time and offering to stay with his girlfriend so I can sleep in his bed even though I had just traumatically left a bedbug-infested punk house. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't always worried about burdening him with the transitionary phase of my life, and also if I told you I wasn't and wouldn't always be a little intimidated by Craig, simply because of how high up he is on the "cool guy" scale. Which isn't his fault by any means, it just deters me from being able to hang out with him regardless of whether I'm in a let's-have-fun mood or a I-just-want-to-ugly-cry-and-eat-spaghetti-on-the-toilet mood.
I'm moving into my apartment today and will be spending my first night in a place that is actually mine, and ONLY mine. It will be ONLY mine until the end of August when Robin comes out permanently, at which point it will be our's, and ONLY our's. It's weird that I am excited to be alone there, because being alone in a place that is your's is different from being alone in a place full of other people. Sometimes the largest crowds are where one can feel the most alone, and I have definitely been experiencing that intensely over the last month. I am hoping that with the ability to poop in my OWN bathroom, one that doesn't have 30 other people pooping in it throughout the day, will help me to cope with the painful loneliness I've been feeling since I've been out here. I'm hoping that the ability to take as long a shower as I want, and stand around naked for as long as I want, and play my music as loud as I want without headphones on, and for fucks sake TALK TO MYSELF will help the remaining couple months alone go by faster and smoother and happier. Maybe I'll finally be able to recharge and gain something from my solitude, rather than feel myself crushing underneath the weight of it. I am hoping it will be productive, healthy, and nourishing. I am also hoping it won't suck, because today is my very first payday, and I just realized that I totally can't afford it. 💁🏻
When I came out here I anticipated meeting people and making friends at work, but nobody at work hangs out with each other outside of it, and more bizarrely, nobody even really talks to each other in the offices, and when they do, it's not above a whisper because everyone's so awkward about talking or making any sound whatsoever. The other day one of the girls in the office accidentally had her Spotify linked to her work computer instead of her phone, so randomly, like a siren blessing the deepest depths of hell, music started to play. Hark! What is this beautiful sound I doth hear with mine ears? Is it... But how... It sounds like... Could it be... Music? Bless my soul and this sweet sweet sound! It went on for about 30 seconds before everyone realized it wasn't a ringtone, and then everyone awkwardly shifted in their seats while two grown men frantically attempted to stop the tune and restore the office to its normal state of deafening silence. And let me just say, that that one minute and thirty seconds of an actual, audible melody coming from those shitty laptop speakers was the most comfortable minute and thirty seconds I have spent in this office since my first day here, and maybe that one other day where I actually had some work to do and actually knew how to do it.
Since nobody talks to each other, and nobody hangs out with each other, work days are excruciatingly lonely, which only succeeds in making them excruciatingly long. I spend lunch breaks completely alone, when I even bother to take them and don't opt to skip lunch and leave work an hour early. I smoke far more cigarettes than I'd like to just because it's an excuse to get up and move around, particularly away from the World's Most Muted Office (Tagline: "Shhh"). I check my phone constantly, hoping for any kind of communication from the outside world, but it is limited considering that somebody decided to build a copper museum in basically the middle of the woods and make everyone work in the basement of it. Going outside to smoke provides not only an average of 7,000 extra steps a day because you basically have to walk a mile to get outside and to a respectable distance, but also an extra moment of exhilaration that somebody might have texted me and it might finally come through. I sit on a variety of benches off the property and sigh when it reaches the end, because I've run out of things to look at on my phone and I can only kill a couple more minutes sitting here until I have to go back to the cave of solitude and pretend to have something to work on for the next two hours until it's subtle enough for me to slip out again. Sometimes, I even say fuck it and light up another one, even though it always tastes like shit.
I also anticipated meeting people at the Red Victorian, the hostel-type community house I stayed at for the first month I was out here. There's dozens of rooms and different people staying in them all the time. There were 4 bunks in the room I stayed in and different people filtered in and out of the other beds during my time there, but people rarely made contact with other people, and only one 23-year-old Australian techie transplant was cool or brave enough to engage with the other people in the room, making friends with everyone for his week's visit before jet setting off to Hong Kong because money and youth and possibility and youth and money. I found that typically after work, I was so exhausted from somehow successfully making it through another day in San Francisco without having a complete meltdown that all I really wanted to do was rest. I didn't have the energy or the capacity to talk to other people, or try to make friends. Being social with new people has oftentimes just felt like yet another chore or task I need to complete, on top of the thousand other things I've had to do on my own since getting here. I found that if it was something I could put off, I might as well until I'm less physically and emotionally exhausted by life. So as a result, I met few people at the Red Victorian, a house where there probably would have been a multitude of excellent people to befriend, had I felt I was able to.
Many of my friends who are still out here from our college years together, of which there are about 3, all have their own lives and social circles and cultures and happenings already established. I just found out my friend Ryan who was my connection at Google just got engaged to his girlfriend and is expecting twins. Fucking twins, dude. I don't expect anybody expecting twins to give two shits about me, and yes I meant that pun. Marissa is a beautiful, free-spirited party girl who makes her own schedule around her party lifestyle which usually leads to her doing the bulk of her work between the hours of 2 and 4am. She's the kind of girl who won't call you first, but will always call you back, and I am always guaranteed a good time with her, as much as I am always guaranteed a hangover the next day. Craig is an amazing friend who is always participating in something awesome and often invites me along, and who is always trying to help out my situation as much as possible, showing me a great time and offering to stay with his girlfriend so I can sleep in his bed even though I had just traumatically left a bedbug-infested punk house. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't always worried about burdening him with the transitionary phase of my life, and also if I told you I wasn't and wouldn't always be a little intimidated by Craig, simply because of how high up he is on the "cool guy" scale. Which isn't his fault by any means, it just deters me from being able to hang out with him regardless of whether I'm in a let's-have-fun mood or a I-just-want-to-ugly-cry-and-eat-spaghetti-on-the-toilet mood.
I'm moving into my apartment today and will be spending my first night in a place that is actually mine, and ONLY mine. It will be ONLY mine until the end of August when Robin comes out permanently, at which point it will be our's, and ONLY our's. It's weird that I am excited to be alone there, because being alone in a place that is your's is different from being alone in a place full of other people. Sometimes the largest crowds are where one can feel the most alone, and I have definitely been experiencing that intensely over the last month. I am hoping that with the ability to poop in my OWN bathroom, one that doesn't have 30 other people pooping in it throughout the day, will help me to cope with the painful loneliness I've been feeling since I've been out here. I'm hoping that the ability to take as long a shower as I want, and stand around naked for as long as I want, and play my music as loud as I want without headphones on, and for fucks sake TALK TO MYSELF will help the remaining couple months alone go by faster and smoother and happier. Maybe I'll finally be able to recharge and gain something from my solitude, rather than feel myself crushing underneath the weight of it. I am hoping it will be productive, healthy, and nourishing. I am also hoping it won't suck, because today is my very first payday, and I just realized that I totally can't afford it. 💁🏻