(no subject)
I like things how I like them. I like visceral pleasures. I like things to be aesthetically pleasing. I like ambiance and mood lighting and incense and tea, and it baffles me that people can say “whatever” and not strive for perfect moments. I like buying lots of things and then putting them all away. I love unpacking as soon as I check into a hotel room. I have so many guilty pleasures, so many small indulgences, like a song on my iPod that I listen to over and over. I like stacking my books and rearranging them in order of height. I like driving to the grocery store and buying frills like goat cheese and peaches, just because they taste nice and will make a lovely evening. I find driving therapeutic. I compartmentalize and analyze things in my head. I zone out and sing to my own songs and never have to worry about anyone else interfering. I like planning out my weekends on margins of paper in Chinese class. I like fall and sweaters and scarves and mittens and boots. I wish I could dress for eternal fall. I like going to the movies when it's cold out and getting coffee afterwards. I like perfect pens, and will go to lengths to buy a long-term supply. I make lists of things to have in my own house once I graduate and make money. I like Christmas. I know I will have Christmas decorations and music and family photos and egg nog and candles and Christmas movies. I know that I will be on top of every little detail to maximize the holiday spirit. I do dishes because I like how the sink looks when it is clean. I plan what I will have for breakfast when I am thirty.
This all seems so ordinary-who doesn’t appreciate tasteful lighting-but then I realize that maybe I take a little bit too much pleasure in the little things. It doesn’t make much room for other people. When someone alters my perfect plan I become uncomfortable, and my mood falters. I realize that what this is all about is romance, but romance for myself only. Lately I have been so content without other people that I worry that one day I will wake up and wonder where everyone is. It’s odd, I’ve always thought of myself as a needy person, requiring emotional gratification from people surrounding me. But this fall I suddenly feel ambivalent. It’s like my social life has become white noise that I don’t really feel anymore. A dvd and a cup of tea in my own room makes me so euphorically happy that I don’t miss not going out. I've always just been a fair-weather socializer.
This all seems so ordinary-who doesn’t appreciate tasteful lighting-but then I realize that maybe I take a little bit too much pleasure in the little things. It doesn’t make much room for other people. When someone alters my perfect plan I become uncomfortable, and my mood falters. I realize that what this is all about is romance, but romance for myself only. Lately I have been so content without other people that I worry that one day I will wake up and wonder where everyone is. It’s odd, I’ve always thought of myself as a needy person, requiring emotional gratification from people surrounding me. But this fall I suddenly feel ambivalent. It’s like my social life has become white noise that I don’t really feel anymore. A dvd and a cup of tea in my own room makes me so euphorically happy that I don’t miss not going out. I've always just been a fair-weather socializer.