2003-08-25 - 5:15 p.m.

An Aside While She's Gone

It's very, very odd living with someone after many moons and suns alone, and there is a lot of adjustment needed to continue everyday life.

Also, I just realized she left to go to Starbucks without my having told her how to get there, which may result in this coffee-trip she's embarked on being either far longer or far shorter than she'd planned.

I have a pretty good understanding of where our current issues are coming from -- a good part of the things that would annoy me if I didn't understand them so well stems from her not having a job yet and consequently staying home all day while I work my ten-to-eighteen-hour shifts at the store that's now entirely mine. I come home deep-bone weary and ready to collapse, lie down on the bed, and the pent up energy that she's had no one to share with or communicate to comes pouring out; I nod my head and mumble and try desperately to stay awake while the walls swim from side to side.

Somehow, probably because I'm half-hallucinating by that point and usually zonked out on ephedrine, caffeine, or some other stimulant to make it through the day (judge all you like, but then try working three seventeens in a row as the guy who's responsible for everything), I end up giving pretty decent advice, cutting through the haze that always surrounds emotional issues, and am generally pretty good with disclaiming the parts of what I'm saying that are less factually and experientially based and more a matter of gut instinct.

It's hard for me to get used to spending all my time around humans of various stripes, rather than the half-on half-off life I've had the last year and a half. Five people other than myself have been in this apartment that I can think of, perhaps a grand total of fifteen times in the last year and a half since I first unlocked the door and walked in. (I'm not, incidentally, counting the roommates who stayed in their room and hid anytime I was home -- if you can't talk to them, they don't count for much in terms of company, mostly)

It's hard for me to get used to her taste in music -- girly-rock, pseudo-punk being the hardest stuff she listens to. I hide off in a corner somewhere in get my Static-X fix, or blast a few bars of the Queen of the Damned and hold the intensity close with a bit more fervor than is probably warranted.

Music's traditionally been one of my outlets, though, and it's strange not having it around as much.

She's back.

previous - next