Today I felt unnerved, even apprehensive. I couldn’t figure out why. I posted on Twitter that I felt “lonely,” but that couldn’t be it, surely?
Then I realized that I hadn’t had a meaningful conversation with anyone in a day and a half.
See, I don’t handle solitude well. It’s a weird personality quirk of mine; I may be as INFP as it’s possible to be, but I still need to feel like I’m part of humanity.
Yes, I’d talked to my grandmother’s worthless cat. Yes, I’d talked with people online via e-mail, Twitter, and Facebook. But after Friday night’s pub outing, my only personal interaction with another human being was with the ticket clerk at the movie theater. And even though I was surrounded by people at the theater, I didn’t interact with them. One can be surrounded by people and still be alone, after all.
And yet, even after the realization that I’d had no meaningful human contact, I went and had even less. After putting out my laundry to dry, I went up the reservoir and hiked back to the dam, a long and lonely hike where it’s possible to not see another soul for long stretches.
I actually saw a semi-familiar face as I was in sight of the parking lot on my out. I’ve seen a few times a young woman with blond hair who wears a Celtics jersey. I’ve no idea who she is, just someone I’ve seen before. I passed her as she was just starting out. I nodded, she nodded back, and that was my personal interaction for the day.
At least it was, until a few hours later I decided to go to Fuddrucker’s for dinner. What can I say? I wanted a hamburger. I could have gone to Five Guys, but I like the atmosphere of Fuddrucker’s. I like the memorabilia with which the restaurant is decorated. A Fuddrucker’s hamburger isn’t as good as I remember, but it’s good enough, and the ambiance makes up for it.
The Fuddrucker’s outing brightened my mood, despite the presence of James Blunt’s “You’re Beautiful,” surely one of the world’s most depressing songs, on the restaurant muzak.
Then I went to Target and looked at coffee pots and furniture.
You’d be surprised, but looking at coffee pots and furniture in stores gives me a strange feeling of contentment, especially because I’m in the market for neither.
Now I think I can call it a day.