Exhaustion

I don't know if it is the change in the seasons, allergies, or my inconsistent mood weather, but I have been a horrible bitch lately. I don't think other people notice this--I am too self-conscious and aware of the terrible job market to let too many people. But I know it. I feel it in my soul, dark and twisted and miserable.

I recently moved back to an old apartment. I lived here when I was in college through the very beginning of my adult career and the beginning of what I thought was the love of my life. Now I'm back. I remember how miserable I was here (I was happy here too, but I can only remember the misery). People on the street are nasty and I have to deal with tourists constantly. I am stuck in my mother's dream for me--pre-sexual, middle-class, comfortable.

UGH, COMFORTABLE. Is there anything worse in life? I feel a fog of uncomfortable comfort. The black dog curling up in my lap. My life passing before me like a dull movie.

Loneliness and the Virtual World

So six months ago, I ended a relationship. We had been living together for several years, and it was very sad when it ended. When I moved out, I knew that I needed a place of my own, no roommates. In order to afford such an apartment, I had to move to a particularly inconvenient part of Brooklyn. It is 20 minutes away from hip bars or fancy grocery stores, and although that may not seem so inconvenient to those of you living in AMERICA, in NYC that is a social death sentence.

I chose my apartment in order to nest, but I am finding that I spend more and more time away from the nest, and that when I am home, I am suddenly lonely. I have always been a fairly solitary figure, and lately I have found a deeper appreciation for my own company. But then there are those times that I feel desperate. At my old place, I could just walk out the door and go to at least 15 different places in a five-minute walk radius. Here, that's not going to happen, and even if it did, I would still have to walk through the projects.

So I have been spending a lot of time online. On Facebook, Twitter, even LinkedIn when I'm desperate. And, of course, online dating. Now a few of these online dating connections have become real world connections, and that is very nice (and clearly necessary). What disturbs me is how often I feel the need to check my profile, see who "visited" "me," and generally take the whole thing waaaay too seriously. Because although there are some very nice gentlemen callers I have met, there are also a lot of assholes. And malcontents. And penis pictures.

I am also disturbed that when this desperation/loneliness seizes me, I need to fill up the space not just with online flirting, online status updates, etc., but it is also necessary to read The New York Times, watch TV, and scan YouTube. I am something out of Existenz. And I hate Cronenberg.

But the rub is, that if I disconnect, I do lose this community. Maybe I gain something, like self-reliance or mental clarity, but what is the point of all of that alone in a Brooklyn apartment?

What is a Good Job?

So I got home late the other night, around 9pm, and there is this guy hanging around outside my apartment building. He immediately starts explaining that he is waiting for a friend (because that's not shady) and starts talking to me in a loud voice (ditto).

"I live over there," he says, point down the block. "And we love you guys, boy, we love you."
"Uh-huh."
"We don't see you around much during the day."
"No, I'm usually at the office. I'm just getting home now."
"Oh yeah, that's right. You people have, what do they call them...good jobs." Pause. "I don't mean that in a racist way."
"No, of course not. I was just wondering what you meant by 'good.'"

Richie or Ricky or Ralphie or whateverhisname then proceeded to ask me for a job. I told him that we didn't have any openings, but I would keep him in mind. Finally able to extricate myself from the conversation, I walked up the stairs and heard him muttering my name to himself and repeating, "I'm gonna remember that."