Last weekend was horrendous. I made the mistake of checking my work email, and there is was. One of the people writing in to complain that I had got something wrong. It was a fairly serious error and I spent the whole weekend stressing about how to deal with it, more afraid of my boss than the influencial person I had interviewed. The error got me down because I am tougher on myself when I make a mistake than anyone else could ever possibly be and also because I had truly enjoyed working on that story and for once was enthusiastic about my job and what I could do next.
Anyway, since then I’m back to dullness.
Also, later in the week came the charming news that V may be going to India for a couple of months of work. I accepted it with resignation. I have been told by some that this is the perfect time for me to face my demons and learn to live with/by myself. I find this – probably sound – advice faintly irritating (*hint* don’t say this to me even if you’re thinking it or at least, find a novel way to say it).
I am the first one to admit that I have a problem with aloneness. But I am also part of the half of human beings that would rather make my life easier than more difficult. So if I don’t like the taste of fish, for example, I’d rather not eat it, for example. Ergo.
I have had a taste of living alone when I was in uni in Hyderabad. I had heard the sound of doors slamming behind me and the silence after it. I have roamed empty rooms lit cigarette and my own thoughts for company. I have eaten alone and shopped alone and slept alone, even when once there was a mysterious motorbike without number plates parked in our yard and the police had to be informed. I have been sick alone.
I don’t like it. I prefer to be alone with a book when someone is around the house somewhere watching TV but available for conversation at least once every two days. Or to be in a city where there I people I can call on who I might like to spend time with.
That’s not to say I don’t have friends in HK. I do. But it’s a Catch 22 whether I would really want to spend that much time with them. Or how much time they would be available to spend with me.
I have a feeling living alone might make me more anti-social instead of less.