Writing, Contemplating, Moving Forward,

I spent the majority of tonight working on a novel that found itself percolating in my mind over the last few days. Instead of giving a small tidbit of that for my writing, I actually came to a sudden realization. As I sat here pulling this piece together from a variety of things I already wrote, my friends showed up. My roommate, already decently intoxicated, began to once again tell me we needed to watch something other than what I watched. I tried to continue to write and talk with her friends as more people showed up to join the cadre of people. Now as they left, I realized that I sort of enjoy being alone.

Throughout the last four semesters, I constantly needed people surrounding me. When I came back from the Navy, I lived with my new roommate, Char. The two of us moved and shook with a variety of different people finding our way into countless friend groups. We loved each other. We loved partying, and we loved people. Sometimes, she liked to be alone, and I honestly did not understand it. I spent every waking moment either with people or blaring out the silent world with my music. Now, that has changed.

I sit here now alone in my apartment thinking back over the last few weeks. My roommate goes out with her friends, drinks, and comes home, sometimes alone, other times with friends, sometimes with lovers. I stay here with my cat. Now, I do go out and meet people. I spend time with friends, but the majority of my time in the apartment, I am alone. Sometimes, I flip through my Western Civilization II book, other times, I research the answers to my Quantitative Literacy book, or just sit write alone. I never thought being alone could be so relieving.

Part of it, I think, might be the fact that in five months I leave for New Jersey. If I make new connections severing them at the time I leave may feel impossible. The few friendship I find dear, I continue to cherish. I invite them over. I write with them. I make dinner plans and go out, but going down and drinking myself into a stupor feels like a waste of time. I would inevitably spend money that I do not really have. I would make friends with people I will leave behind. I want my life to move forward; and regardless of the fact one of my friends say he will be coming with me, I am moving alone.

I told myself that this semester would be about me. I work out every day or every other day (every two days at the least). I have gotten my money out of the gym membership I paid for. I will continue to go as long as I can afford it, and I will try to eat as healthy as possible. My friend, Marc, says I am growing up. Well, maybe I am.