Roommates
I have decided that one of the most wonderful things about living in a dorm or an apartment or house or some other structure is the ability to suddenly be around people you like as often as you like while providing the general option of spending time doing whatever it is you feel like doing. The average, mundane activities are rarely worse when good friends are around and good friend can often increase the warmth of a room.
This, naturally, depends a rather lot on the particular people that reside in the dorm, apartment, or house with you and whether or not you actually like other people. I, being a stout introvert, like some people. More specifically, I like friends who can enjoy being in each other's presence without feeling any strange desire to directly interact with me. With friends like these it is perfectly plausible to find a bunch of us sitting on sofas or couches or futons reading or writing or drawing with no significant conversations uttered and a healthy dosage of peace for all to have.
One of my favorite pastimes is, quite decidedly, doing nothing. Some people have a very hard time doing nothing and those of us who treasure the ability to sit around merely enjoying something (which is generally how one most effectively does nothing) find it fit to label the others with endearing terms akin to, "busy-body", "hyper", or "obnoxious". The more active of us that do nothing will often read a book in place of staring a wall or lying in a field, but this has never hindered the staring or lying and hard feelings are very rarely rallied. Repeatedly asking what everyone wants to do would be an opposite of this. One would think that one could only hear "I don't know" or "nothing" a limited number of times before resigning their crusade of looking for something to do. Strangely, if this limit exists I rarely notice it breached before the peace a room has slipped away allowing a disquieting aggravation to hop, skip, and jump into the room, landing with a resounding guffaw, and ruffling the pages of any books being read and filling minds with thoughts that bear little resemblance to nothing.
Unfortunately, I have no haven to retreat inside that always promises a good friend doing relatively nothing. There are no apartments for me filled with roommates that know me well enough to know the answers to the interesting questions that can be asked of a person leaving no questions asked and no responses desired. A living room with two or three books being read and, perchance, someone staring at whatever can be found in their imagination is a treasure I hope to revisit some day. I would find it grand to live in a house with a pile of roommates with similar notions of passing the latter hours of the day.
In the meantime, however, I find myself alone on a couch in a house with a book while constantly remembering that happiness is always greater when someone else is sharing it with you.
This, naturally, depends a rather lot on the particular people that reside in the dorm, apartment, or house with you and whether or not you actually like other people. I, being a stout introvert, like some people. More specifically, I like friends who can enjoy being in each other's presence without feeling any strange desire to directly interact with me. With friends like these it is perfectly plausible to find a bunch of us sitting on sofas or couches or futons reading or writing or drawing with no significant conversations uttered and a healthy dosage of peace for all to have.
One of my favorite pastimes is, quite decidedly, doing nothing. Some people have a very hard time doing nothing and those of us who treasure the ability to sit around merely enjoying something (which is generally how one most effectively does nothing) find it fit to label the others with endearing terms akin to, "busy-body", "hyper", or "obnoxious". The more active of us that do nothing will often read a book in place of staring a wall or lying in a field, but this has never hindered the staring or lying and hard feelings are very rarely rallied. Repeatedly asking what everyone wants to do would be an opposite of this. One would think that one could only hear "I don't know" or "nothing" a limited number of times before resigning their crusade of looking for something to do. Strangely, if this limit exists I rarely notice it breached before the peace a room has slipped away allowing a disquieting aggravation to hop, skip, and jump into the room, landing with a resounding guffaw, and ruffling the pages of any books being read and filling minds with thoughts that bear little resemblance to nothing.
Unfortunately, I have no haven to retreat inside that always promises a good friend doing relatively nothing. There are no apartments for me filled with roommates that know me well enough to know the answers to the interesting questions that can be asked of a person leaving no questions asked and no responses desired. A living room with two or three books being read and, perchance, someone staring at whatever can be found in their imagination is a treasure I hope to revisit some day. I would find it grand to live in a house with a pile of roommates with similar notions of passing the latter hours of the day.
In the meantime, however, I find myself alone on a couch in a house with a book while constantly remembering that happiness is always greater when someone else is sharing it with you.