How To Be Alone, Part Two: How To Be Lonely

I arrived ten minutes before the show began.  The theatre was only half full, with many seats still left in the section furthest from the stage.  I found an empty row, and sat, alone, staring up the aisle of the front section.  With this seat, I had a perfect view of the stage.  Every person who walked up that aisle, though, could see that I was there, by myself, at a concert.

While preparing for the evening, I was concerned about how I would feel in this situation.  It had been seven years since I had last went to a concert by myself.  The situation was much the same.  My favourite band of the time, Barenaked Ladies, was playing in the first city I lived in full-time: Vancouver.  At the time, I had many acquiantances and a few friends, but nobody else was interested in BNL like I was.  Of all the people I invited to come along with me, I was the only one willing to pay $65, as a student, to sit half a mile away from the artists who had kept me sane for the last four years.  Nobody I knew understood how I, the cheapest student they knew, could splurge on such a luxury.  But for me, BNL was worth it.

That was the one and only concert I went to in GM Place.  I arrived early, found my seat and ended up making small talk with the young woman sitting beside me.  Her affection for the band was clearly not the same as mine.  "This is my first concert," I explained. 

"BNL was my first concert, too," she shared, "when I was ten.  They`re more of my parents` favourite band."
It was like an arrow being shot through my ego. This was an exciting night for me.  I should be feeling special, not pathetic.  My older self would have brushed her comment aside and continued to enjoy the night, but my self doubt continued to grow.  There I was, just some country bumpkin, sitting in the largest arena of one of my country's largest cities, and I would never be like them.  I would always be different.  That is the story of my life...

This week, it was a half-choice to be there alone.  I had mentioned the concert to a friend of mine who has similar taste in music.  Our first dinner together, she brought out her entire cd collection, featuring four of the artist's cds.  The most recent dinner we shared together, I had brought up the concert and her interest were peaked.  It was still a month until the concert, but she thought her and her boyfriend could come along. 

"Oh, how my life has changed.  I'm no longer going to events alone, instead I'm going as a third wheel," is what I could have thought.  But I didn't.  I'm happy to be alone, now.  I'm happy to be a third wheel as well.  I enjoy my friends, and their boyfriends, too.  And it no longer makes me feel utterly alone in this world to be a third wheel.

The last time I had come to this theatre, I was with one of my best friends, and we had seen some amazing artists. We had arrived early and grabbed a seat closer to the stage. We could see the sweat on the musicians' foreheads. While enjoying the show, I had spent half the night texting my romantic other half. That was a different night...


I watched as the couples entered the theatre together.  Not only romantic couples, but friendship couples, too.  There were groups of friends.  And groups of couples.  Children, and the older crowd, as well.  The theatre was beginning to fill. 
I had only just bought my tickets that day.  My life right now is left half up to chance, half planned out, or "structured," as another writer put it.  It's working out well for me, and I try not to complain when plans don't turn out.  As I sat, writing frantically before the concert so that I had some work to show for the day, I suddenly remembered that my friend and her boyfriend had wanted to go to the concert with me.  I sent her a quick text, wondering if she remembered the night as well.

An hour later, when I received her text reply, I knew that it was really fate.  I needed to go to this concert alone.  I needed to be able to fully absorb the experience, not worry about other people enjoying it to the same extent as myself.  And, following Julia Cameron's Artist Way, it was my "Artist's Date" for the week.  My friend had to work that night, and so they wouldn't be coming.  I was off to see the show alone.

A blanket of peace covered me as the lights dimmed and the opening act stepped onto stage.  They were pretty amazing, and she was from Edmonton as well.  It must be a real treat to play for a hometown audience after touring over one's country.  We actually understood her remarks about where she grew up and the exact picture she painted of the river valley was fresh in the minds of the people who had seen it earlier that day.

The peace continued to cover me for the next two and half hours.  It spanned intermission, which I spent writing notes to myself in the book I always carry with me, and settled into my bones as the main attraction walked onto stage.  I allowed my mind to wander as I listened, and found myself focusing on the happiness of the moment.

My contentment lasted for the next twenty-two hours.  How amazing was life!  How very precious was every moment we had to appreciate the little things happening in our life?  I was in a good mood, and my good mood was contagious.  It was also exhausting...

I walked into my dark apartment, after a good shift at work, a few drinks during happy hour with my coworker, and some sobering up at the cafe.  "I still have work to do, tonight!" I told them as I downed four shots of espresso, some water and steamed milk.  But I knew I wouldn`t be able to accomplish everything I wanted to get down before falling into a coma for the night.

The espresso helped.  The people in the cafe helped.  I was sober as I looked up the street for the next bus to carry me home.  Although the day was warmer than the one before, I couldn`t walk for the next twenty minutes.  The weariness from my week began to settle in.  And in that weariness, that little shard I keep trying to hide from began to work its way out.  That little shard that made coming home to a dark, empty apartment cluttered with only my things the worst imaginable moment in my life.

This week, I gave advice to a friend on how to be alone.  Not just alone, but okay with being alone.  Content at being alone.  Ironically, this was mere hours before attending the concert by myself - something I was afraid to do on my own.  I did it, though, and even enjoyed my solitude.  I basked in the joy of enjoying something by myself, without any social crutch.  So, how could I, within twenty-four hours have hit this slump of loneliness again?

I fill my life with activities.  I give myself physical tasks to accomplish and structure to fit all of the errands around.  I push myself to accomplish the things I have always wanted to do but was too afraid to do before.  I rattle on and on to colleagues, people I serve at work, and the many friends I have collected.  I encourage only positive talk and flip around the negative comments people around me say.  But, at the end of the day, when all is said and done, is it really enough?  Am I truly happy?  Would I still find joy in solitude if fifty years from now, I came home to a dark apartment, worked for one hour more, then collapsed alone in bed?

Our emotions run the entire spectrum: from utter joy to utter misery.  Isn`t it amazing that within twenty-four hours I could come full circle through that spectrum, and both sides be inspired by the same situation?  And that, dear friends, is how you come to realize that you`re not just alone...you`re lonely...

"I`ve learned that the greater part of our happiness or misery depends on our dispositions and not on our circumstances." - Martha Washington

What`s wrong with being lonely?

The Day of Joda

Today was pretty awesome...and that's not just the wine talking...
It began at 410. Okay, no, 4am, but I hit the snooze button, frequently. Well, not usually on a day that begins with a "T," but that's how we know this day was special. I stumbled into my kitchen, began the single solitary coffee pot, shook some organic cereal into a bowl, topped it off with some organic soy yogurt, realized I REALLY needed to buy groceries today, dumped some agave nectar into my otherwise black coffee (which almost made me cry...yes, I REALLY needed to buy groceries today) and sat down to write my morning pages.

My morning pages are the most cathartic activity I am doing right now. I wake up a half hour early every day just to sit and write out my random thoughts before the day begins. It's creative meditation and it's helping me heal SO MUCH. I don't even think I needed to heal before I started them, but they're allowing me to let go of so much that I needed to put back out there into the universe rather than holding inside of my head. I am in love with the morning pages...almost as much as I am in love with sleep right now...
Sadly, I did not finish the expected three pages before I, terrified of being late, jumped into the shower to get ready for the rest of my day. I cut my hair on Tuesday, and it looks fabulous! But I didn't want to go to work looking like Einstein's beautiful second niece, twice removed (although I do resemble a bit of short-haired Meg Ryan right now...). It was the fastest shower I have had in YEARS! Now, I love long showers, but I'm also trying REALLY hard to not be late anymore...in some areas of life, anyways...
I needn't have worried about it! I made it to the LRT in PLENTY of time, almost beating my usual arrival there of 518. Ten minutes later, the first train arrived....two minutes after that, my train appeared, heading south.
Work was exceptionally BORING this morning. I had a small squabble with a woman who lacks olfactory glands and was putting her unwanted defecations everywhere... Why do I still work in customer service? ... especially in high end markets? Oh, well, what followed was a soothing workout that allowed the world to disappear, and my inner voice to cry out in triumph - I am ROCKING the deltoids this week!
Then, I put my thriftiness together with my staff discount and treated myself to a true coffee, with soy milk, and brown sugar, just cause I had to take the LONGEST bus ride in all of Edmonton. Once I arrived at the first stop, I exitted the bus, looked around and discovered that it was the second bus I needed to catch. After a longer than necessary conversation with the operator of the motor vehicle, I boarded again...and returned to reading my book in the same seat: left side, right behind the door, with one eye kept on the street sign so as not to miss where I am.
After numerous bottles of water, a strong cup of java and WAY TOO LONG on public transit, I arrived at my first final destination of the afternoon. I raced inside, entered a bunch of codes, and made my way promptly to the room primarily used for praying to the porcelain gods and goddesses. It was quite a relief, to say the least...although the feline in the next room was QUITE confused...
I then entered the same codes, grabbed some necessary keys and began my temporary time with wheels. It shall only last a day or two, but those days are FILLED with errands, soul-mending and WAY too much spending! I backed slowly out of the driveway...
Before I knew it, I was home, parking in half-hour parking and hoping to fit in a quick shower after the strenuous day that had already occurred. Afterwards, I grabbed what I thought I might need and headed to a place of serenity...a place I knew well...my old library, filled with the best mags, loud children, and a few comfie chairs. The afternoon was spent there, reading up on how I'm already a pretty awesome individual...
Oh, jingles! I forgot the best parts of the day, so far! Alanis Morisette...
Oh, Alanis, where have you been this week? You were the first song on my iPod this morning - nearly causing a slip on the ice as I surpassed that cute security guard who knows who I am but is too shy to talk to me when he sees me in the morning - ah, younger men...fears of rejection...following the rules...next week I might pinch his bum in the elevator and see where the day takes me...
But, Alanis, yes, Alanis, and angry workout music. Sigh...fab for getting the heart rate up, and fab for belting out to poorly while cruising down Whyte - now that's something you can't do while riding the bus, and something I think we need to take back - improper sing-a-longs to heartbroken anthems. Life should only get so good!
After the library, I stopped at another old haunting ground, without anything more than my tips money, thank goodness! However, it was quite a treat to have the sales lady at Suzy Shier - after telling her to grab me two sizes - tell me I didn't need the larger size. I guess it does really pay to look like Meg Ryan somedays...
I treated myself to some lovely Taco Time mexi-fries and then a Cinnamon Dolce Americano Misto. Divine - except for the burnt tongue. I'm not quite sure which gave me that one...
Then off to that large parking lot, cement floors, and discounted goods in bulk. Hmmm, been a long time since I been there and the food hoarder in me has been panicking. Luckily, I saved her today, and she'll be satiated for the next three to six months, I hope...
The problem with driving in the city is always parking. Whether it's struggling to find something longer than thirty minutes, or struggling to remember where in the parking lot you left the vehicle. Leaving the large building with this look of terror on my face was quite entertaining, if only to catch glimpses of the other shoppers reactions to that face - and them knowing exactly what the fear was about. Why is that parking lot so big? And why do I never remember to draw myself a map with a big ex where the vehicle is on it? These questions will never be answered...
There was a time, less than twelve months ago, when I spent my life in a different neighbourhood. With the wheels under my feet, and enough tunes to get me home, I ventured off into that distant neighbourhood, if only to see how it's changed. I never left the vehicle, but I checked up on a few people I left behind in that life. Separation is always hard, but necessary for any true growth to happen...
I then proceeded to the new neighbourhood I call home, and struggling to find an appropriate parking spot. After ten minutes, I embraced the four-wheel-drive capacity of the wheels under foot and settled in nicely to a melting snowbank on the street. I then took my time running errands, not wanting to return to that mess...
I made it out! Almost without a struggle. Parking by my apartment, on the other hand, was less than delightful. After a half hour of circling the block, getting stuck, and unstuck, and then stuck again, I fear what may be waiting for me in the morning...one thing is for sure, though - I got me some pretty awesome food to eat, and a kitchen counter that needs its dishes washed. Why then am I here, telling you all about my day? 'Cause - as I explained to the greasy Italian who helped me with the elevator - "no, I'm not a student, I just like the lifestyle - less responsibility, less money, more hippy-love crap, etc." So, here is the end of my day in a snapshot!

Purpose from Avenue Q

A fellow quarter-life-crisis sufferer reccomended this song to me this morning. I kind of LOVE IT! This song exemplifies the beginning of any "life" crisis, whether its quarter or mid. Luckily, mine began at 23, so I've figured out my purpose.

This fall, I went into a room of strangers and told them that I was put on this earth in order to change it. That doesn't mean I'll be the next Oprah, or Ellen, or even the next Ghandi; they are merely role models for me. I know that I have already changed the world, and for more than one person, I'm sure. And the opportunity for me to continue to do that happens every day, in every social transaction. It might just be a little change, or it could be the change I'm hoping to see in this world, but I know that each and every one of them matter.

Yeah, I've figured it out. I know I'm going to have more of an affect on the world through my writing than my day-to-day actions. And that's the tough part to figure out. How do I have enough time for the writing while still surviving financially? Right now, I'm living on faith that the money will come in. Sometimes, that's all you can do. And, I know I'm not alone. There are so many people out there right now, struggling much more than I am. Inside, though, I have this little fire of faith that burns pretty bright and pretty strong and it's keeping me going more than any full-time, salaried job EVER could...

Moving On, Saving Lives, and Crying About My Wasted Youth...

Death Cab For Cutie ~ Your New Twin Sized Bed

I had the most unbelievably brilliant day today! ...

Well, it started out kinda slow and unproductive and I felt bad about not making it to the post office this morning, but there's always tomorrow. Then I made it to my appointment early, struggled to follow the instructions (bite lip and look sheepish here), but was set up to the centrifuge before I knew it. This was my first time donating plasma, and the nurse was extremely helpful, supportive and made me feel great about saving so many lives with a mere ninety minutes out of my day.

As I watched the blood flow up through the tubes and the yellow liquid flow from the centrifuge to the collection bag, I answered the nurse's questions about what I do. "I'm a writer," I said. That was the first time I could honestly say that that was how I'm making a living! She was so excited about it, and I hated to tell her that I was just starting out. I did mention that the money wasn't everything everybody hoped for...

Then I met a friend for lunch (which is becoming a common occurrence as the holidays get closer and closer). We caught up and chatted long after our food was devoured. It ended with a great conversation about vegetarianism, eating animals, making nice with family, and a short reading from Jonathon Safran Foer's book that I currently tote around with me... It felt so good to have an honest, intellectual conversation about the social dilemnas of eating (or not eating) something that you morally disagree with.

And then I made some money. It was fun! I got to hang out with some pretty awesome people and even, hopefully, made somebody else feel better about his own quarter-life crisis. On my break, I read a bit about a personal issue I'm struggling with right now, but maintained my fantastic mood all the way home. I even stopped at my favourite house to enjoy the spectacle it has become with the decorated evergreen outside. Nothing, I felt could get me down...

As I turned the corner to the street my building is on, I began to think about music as a drug. Its ability to uplift us is so powerful...as is its ability to bring us down as well.

This song came on my iPod the other night, when I was going out and stoked for what was about to happen... Then, suddenly, my pace changed...my smile disappeared as I listened to this soft tune about broken hearts.

Life is pretty amazing. We have ultimate control over how to react to a situation, and basically how to feel. Sometimes, though, it's ok to let your emotions seep into this world you want so badly to control, and just run with it. It's ok to cry about your past even when you're so excited about your future... And Death Cab is probably the best band to cry to when you need to.

Still...I had an AMAZING day...and can't wait to do it all over again - everything! ;-)