02.17.04 10:08 pm

i could say i'm not sure exactly what happened but that wouldn't be accurate.

i think instead the more accurate thing to say is that i didn't see it coming.

one minute i'm typing away at the computer in my office, mundane data entry drivel, the next minute the thought fully formed lands squarely on top of me: i think i might very much like to leave this life and die.

it took my breath away in that split second and i was filled with an overwhelming sense of calm and peace... and relief. what a relief it would be to go to sleep and never wake up.

the mental checklist follows... what is keeping me here? what would i leave in my wake of un-being? who the hell would really be affected?

essentially i am in the midst of the very banal and necessary existentialist mid-life singledom careerless childless crisis that swings the one-two punch: why the fuck am i here and why the fuck should i stick around?

is it too late to focus back on the little things? criminy. this is exhausting.

i guess this was the next natural step in the adjustment period of living alone with me and my thoughts and habits for all of me to see.

i exist in a swarm of busyness all around me and through me and yet i could go for days on end without really interacting with anyone. this feeling, like everything else, comes and goes with the ebb and flow of any piece of existence.

i am not hermitting. far from it. but the loneliness is still palpable.

i think, amidst all of the running and not running and all that each entails in my alone life, i am finally realizing in my deep down bits that quality and connection, over quantity and busyness, are truly more satisfying.

i know. big duh moment. but to say it and to breathe it are two entirely different animals.

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ok, back to the little everyday life things...

i still have yet to meet any of my neighbors, but in the meantime, i am getting used to their different noises and routines.

the boy in front of me has an awful cold; his cough has clued me in to the proximity of his bed from the other side of our shared wall.

the upstairs girl has a vacuum compulsion. i will hear it all hours of the day and night throughout each week. strangely enough, this week it has stopped. instead i now hear repetitive squeaking bed noises above my living room corner.

far from being annoyed, i am comforted by the coughing squeaking footstep doorslam waterpipe bass beats of life being lived. it is all a funny reassurance.

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my morning commute now requires a .3 mile power walk to the bus (because of course i am always 2 minutes behind schedule). i now have a bus pass, which has simplified my mornings tremendously. no more missing the bus to buy coffee to get change to pay the bus mornings. simplicity is sweet.

though i have noticed my uptake in nonfat sugar free vanilla lattes. not quite a morning ritual, but almost.

as i leave the bus, grab coffee, cross the street to work, i pass t.y., the tall black homeless man who stands like clockwork on the corner, quiet and unpretentious, in his hands a hat held out slightly for passersby. there is something proud in his stance. i imagine it is not easy to carry this off while begging for money.

and because he is now a part of my morning ritual, i acknowledge him with a nod and a smile as i pass, and he does the same. i feel him looking, expecting it as i cross the street. and so we go through the motions. some days he interupts the ritual to ask me my name, give me his, wish me a happy valentines day. he calls me gorgeous. i shake my head, roll my eyes, give him a smile and keep walking. i'm curious about his story. he is only there in the morning. what does a homeless man do with the rest of his day while we are working?

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how does each person really choose to live their life?

how many people are truly satisfied in the living of it?