When I was in college, I never ate in the dorm cafeteria alone. If my friends weren't around, I just wouldn't eat. I thought people would look at me if I went in alone, I didn't want the attention. I preferred to scavenge in my dorm room for salsa and chips or make some gross grilled cheese on a hot plate until my friends got back. Generally, I think of myself as gregarious; I find it easy to strike up a conversation with a stranger. But years ago, even though I had plenty of friends, I was hesitant. I came to New York for an internship after college for that exact reason - to face my fear. In New York I was forced to do everything alone. Movies, museums, walking dozens of blocks to work, eating in restaurants, reading in a park. All of these things were so new to me. It was a metamorphosis. Not easy, of course, but I learned to love being alone.
As time went on, like anyone else, I learned and grew and tried new things and got other jobs and went to grad school. Each time I thought that something was a little scary, I would try it anyway. None of these things were monumental, but to me I felt the steps forward until it was easy for me to live my life full of people and activities and places and travel. City life seemed like an obvious choice.
I have been reading Cormac McCarthy books obsessively since the beginning of the summer. The Border Trilogy is a series about cowboys in the 40's along the Texas/Mexico border. There are so many passages describing long solo rides through the dusty mountain passes, horses as their only companions. In a totally strange way, I have become attached to these characters, their quest for understanding and human connection. I know that I am not a lonesome cowboy breaking wild fillies in New Mexico, but I identify with the long, uninterrupted periods alone. I feel like I have adjusted so well to being alone, now instead of avoiding social situations because I feel afraid of connecting with people, I choose to be alone because I'd rather go solo. But not only that, I desire a chance to live in a place where there are no people. I want to be surrounded by land and trees and animals, staring out into the wilderness, spitting on the ground, wiping my brow, eating all of my food in a tortilla and letting my horse drink out of my hat.
Then I go outside and there are a million people walking down the street, hovering next to me in the grocery store and taking all of the benches in the park. I have no vistas to gaze and ponder, save a crowded cityscape of huge buildings. I don't mind being alone in public anymore, but I'd like it better if I was alone with a little less population.
