sometimes i manage to convince myself that i am the sort of person who can handle solitude, or a long distance relationship, or separation from the friends that I care about most. that kind of convincing (confident self-delusion) comes easily when i'm in a content phase of life, or simply in a good mood. i'm often in a good mood.

i think i'm often in a good mood because i'm almost always surrounded by people that i care about. i've never lived alone. i spent two years in the crowded intimacy of dorm life and two years living in apartments with good friends. i stayed for months with a friend in pennsylvania and another in phoenix. these days, i'm back in my parents house, typing and sleeping in the same small bedroom, hearing the sounds of my sister talking on the phone or my mom brushing her teeth. those sounds comfort me even when I don't feel like interacting with anyone. i like being alone when i know that someone will eventually come home.

but without family or a few close friends around to keep me happy, i bet i would just lose it. i don't think i could ever move to a city in which i didn't know anyone. because when i'm not deluding myself, loneliness scares the hell out of me. in fact, i shudder a bit when i picture you or another of my friends sitting alone in a room, unable to bear it.

my circles of friends are fragmenting as well, spreading out across the coutry. two of my best friends, more courageous than myself, perhaps, have gone out on their own, across to your coast. the girl who came to visit me earlier this month is out there, but we can only connect through voice and text. through this monitor, i'm constantly discovering the writing and creations of incredible people who i will probably never get to meet, people who i have more in common with than my neighbors and coworkers.

usually, i don't have much time to let these all these things depress me because working, reading and writing keeps my body busy and my mind distracted. a couple of casual deferments can swallow a whole week with ease. i'm often so busy that i have no time to keep in touch with the people i love, and little time to regret that fact. that's intensely saddening.

we can, at the very least, hop a plane, fly out to visit a friend, and pick up right where we left off.

and thus wrote ryan on 1/24/2001. +

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sometimes, solitude is so big and hollow and scary, and i would give anything to have someone in the same room with me. even if it were a stranger sitting in the corner, quietly reading a magazine or watching TV. the space changes when it is filled with someone else's breath, and smell, and things. (this is probably also why i can't stand to sit in my living room, because without the proper furniture or lighting, it is still so dark and empty.)

i found myself alone last night for the first time in days, and it was so unbearable i didn't know what to do with myself. perhaps it's also because the previous four days it was a series of go go go: go here, stop there, visit him, meet her. i, too, had an out-of-town guest, and she and i did the whole sit and talk and shop and giggle and whisper and photograph routine. it was lovely, but it wore me out.

and maybe i'm feeling rather nostalgic, as well. i feel like everyone is moving in different directions and i want to pull them back toward me. this is also a problem i'm finding with the web. i meet amazing people (like her, and you, and others) and we can talk all day and write long letters and hop several planes and it will seem like we were never apart, but inevitably we go back to the place we started. back in our computer chairs, behind the screen, pouring words into a text window and watching it disappear into the ether. it's just that i am becoming fond of some wonderful people who are just beyond my reach, and i don't know how to deal with it.

and thus wrote christine on 1/16/2001. +

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it's strange how periods of time - days or weeks or a whole month - feel more meaningful than others. and i'm not just talking about periods of time when i'm having fun, or enjoying myself, or being productive. a certain series of events somehow come together just right, and often involve the same kind of love, loving and goodness found in those moments you described, moments now represented by objects. periods of karmic upswing, with both giving and taking, and things to look forward to.

for me, the second half of december and the first week of january felt like one of these periods. the frantic christmas shopping, writing in coffee shops, a little snow, and everything seasonally decorated. and this pre-holiday buzz gave way to a relaxing holiday, followed by a two week visit from a bright and beautiful girl who flew across the country just to visit me. at times during those few weeks, i found myself feeling nostalgic for the events even as they were taking place, knowing the buzz of it all would have to fade before long. it's during just such a period that i find myself believing that some presence or providence keeps things moving for me.

but naturally, the post-holiday, post-visit let down came before long, and left me feeling bored and empty. following a few days of struggle and withdrawal, i managed to stay on my feet thanks to routine and simple pleasures, walking working and writing. right now, the time itself feels less meaningful. but everything can't be packed full of love and good every moment, so for the time being i'm back to just living a good, simple life. as you reminded me, that doesn't take too much effort.

and thus wrote ryan on 1/13/2001. +

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