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Life is only what you wonder.

Wednesday, January 28, 2004

Solitude Walking

Sometimes I feel like G. and I are just too different. Opposites attract, but what happens then?
We have different tastes in music, different opinions on art, politics--you name it.
This makes compromise kind of difficult even at the best of times.
We disagree even on the most simplest of things. It's hard to find a middle ground.
It's frustrating for both of us.

Last night I wanted to go to the store up the street and I really wanted G. to walk with me. Not because I was afraid of going by myself, or because I needed help with anything, but for the company.
So I made the suggestion and he looks at me like I suddenly grew a third eye in the middle of my forehead.
I can't say I was surprised at his reaction. G. hates to walk anywhere.
"Why walk when you can drive?" is his philosophy.
"Why waste the gas when the store isn't even two blocks away?" is mine.
I love to walk, to feel the pavement under my shoes, to actually feel the weather instead of veiwing it through a pane of glass.
No big surprise, I ended up walking alone. The air was still. No wind was blowing at all. I looked up but saw no stars. No moon shone down. Snowflakes fell softly, kind of dissolving into mist on their way down. The streetlights shone off the snow and the icicles hanging down from the signs, the sides of buldings. There were no cars driving by, and hardly any people out.
It was a cool, quiet, peaceful fairyland as I crunched my way through the snow to the store.
As I walked I realized that I was somehow glad of the solitude. It was like the night belonged to only me. I owned the streets last night.
They were mine.

It's all about getting the right mix, I think.
Too much "togetherness"--24/7 for an extended time--and I'll start to feel stifled, like I'm not my own person.
Too much time to myself and I start to feel like there's something missing.
Maybe the problem lies with me.
I'm never satisfied.