backyard crowing
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gas leak causes jester residents to evacuate
So here I sit, outside of my dorm, with most everyone else that lives there. We have just evacuated the building, thanks to a natural gas leak, and are now milling around the courtyard. I left so fast as to acquire one of the few available tables, and am listening to a group of people strumming their guitars. I haven't washed my face nor brushed my teeth today, soI feel gross around all these pretty, prepared, "together" people. The wind is blowing ever so slightly as random kids start introducing themselves. A few minutes later, I find myself in creepy Dobie Mall, sitting upon one of its cold metal benches, writing to no one. There were no more movies showing tonight, but all is still well so long as I have paper and pen to entertain. I just relocated to a sitting room in Jester West, and so far it's quiet, despite the fact that I'm sharing the space with five other people. A faint piano can be heard in the background, I am glad to have this break from my dorm room, the cage that I chose to stay in all day today. Why am I such a recluse? I don't understand myself. All I know is that I was enjoying myself, watching the Truman Show on television, and an urgent knocker instructed me to leave. I imagine we still can't go back inside, I heard someone say something about an hour-long wait. This room is comfortable, though, and being an only child has its perks. Case in point: I never get bored. At the moment I am without a cellphone and without friends, yet I can keep myself busy--happy, even. I wish I I knew someone here, though. Austin is large and lonely to me sometimes. I mean, it's wonderful to be within walking distance of a Jamba Juice or a cinema, but what good is that if there's no one to go with? But then again, that's where my independence and love of solitude comes in. I'm not a fan of large crowds nor small ones. I don't thrive on people as some do. I am a lone explorer, and I like it that way. There's no one to impress, to worry about, and no one to worry over me like some new mother. I remember I once asked my mother, "Do you think we learn more about ourselves--about the people we truly are, from spending time alone, or with other people?" She seemed to think it was a good question. She was of the opinion that both time with and without other humans was good for self-discovery, but that it depends on whether one is introverted or extroverted. Her theory was the more quiet one is, the more one learns from one's time alone, and the more outgoing one is, the more one learns from being among others. Of all the phrases that have exited her often-pursed lips, these seem the most correct to me. Of course, there's no real way to prove this theory, but perhaps it's self-evident anyway.
- 2005-09-25
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