A Lapsed Introvert

I am an Introvert.  I like spending time alone.  I find large gatherings and too much social interaction exhausting.  

And yet in the last few months I have not spent a single day alone, in my apartment, watching a marathon of anything.

It's like I've forgotten who I am.  Everyday I go to work and I talk to many, many people.  Not just the customers that I am contractually obligated to talk to either.  But co-workers.  And lots of them.  

There are so many people at my new job.  Every day I see at least 10 people that I swear I have never seen before.  What do all these people do?

And I'm always 'on'.  And not (just) because I'm trying to 'Win Friends and Influence People' but because I enjoy it.

Then I come home.  To my fancy new apartment building.  And I say 'hello' to my building manager instead of avoiding eye-contact and pretending like I didn't see him.  And then I walk down the hallways and I say 'hello' and offer a smile to strangers who just happen to live in the same building that I do.

I say hello to delivery men and construction workers.

What is wrong with me?

And then, on the weekends, I hang out with friends.  Different friends.  Because I have more than two.  

Sometimes I even spend time with them after work.  Yeah.  That's right.  I spend all day talking to people and then leave to go talk to more people.  It's insanity!

So in the spirit of getting back in touch with my true self, I have decided that I am not leaving the apartment tomorrow.  And I'm not talking to anyone.

I give it until 2 o'clock before I text someone.

What's the Opposite of Empty-Nest Syndrome?

Moving back in with your parents as a (-n almost) 30 year-old, semi-independent woman comes with inherent advantages and disadvantages.  When I mention to most people that I am currently residing in my childhood bedroom, most people cringe and express their condolences. 

So far, in my two week experience, I have found that there seem to be more pros than cons.  A lot of that has to do with the fact that, unlike many people apparently, I actually enjoy the company of my parents.  Which is nice.

This is exactly what my
childhood looked like.

So first and foremost,  the most obvious pro has to be that I'm not paying rent.  Or buying groceries.  Or paying for cable and internet.  Or electricity. 

Also, besides keeping my room clean, like a good girl, so far I am basically chore free.  I did fold the laundry once, unprompted.  Maybe I should offer to do the dishes or something...  We'll see.

Furthermore, I'm saving gas money.  Cause now I live in the same building as the washing machine.

Pretty much, my experience with moving back in, so far, has been kind of like a vacation from adulthood.  Or at least the approximation of adulthood that is my usual existence.

There are a few cons to the situation.  Most of them the same cons I would experience were I to suddenly have any type of roommate, after having lived alone for a few years.

What 'living alone' looks like.

Like the fact that I no longer have complete control over the TV.  It has come to my attention that not all people care to watch Criminal Minds whenever it happens to be on. Even if you just saw that one.  And there's an actual new episode of another show you enjoy on at the same time.  It's weird.  

Also,  I think it goes without saying that it would be inappropriate for me to walk around the house naked.

Or to buy a bottle of wine on the way home from work, solely for the purpose of getting drunk alone and watching Gossip Girl.  I mean, I guess I could invite them to get drunk with me, but I think drinking with your parents might be even sadder than drinking alone.  And they don't even like Gossip Girl.

Lastly, I detect a definite air of judgement when I sleep until 1:00 on a Sunday.

As far as the good and bad for my parents, having me home seems to be less advantageous. 

I'm eating their food, co-opting their television and using up the hot water.  I brought my cat with me, so now they have a litter box in their kitchen.  

I'm sure there are activities that my presence is interfering with but the amount of time I spent thinking about that just to type it is far more than I would have liked, so let's move on.

The only benefits for them that I can think of are the pleasure of my company, which, let's face it, pays for itself and the comfort of knowing that their eldest child is not being horribly murdered in her apartment.*

*This relates to the reason I am currently living with my parents even though I am still paying rent on a perfectly livable apartment.  Let's not get into it.

When you search for 'stalked' you get
a lot of pictures of Michael Buble getting
stalked by velociraptors. 

Oh The Humanity

Today I read something that gave me pause.  It was posted on Facebook.  When I read it I was suddenly overcome by a deep despair. 

"I NO I DONT WANT HIM TO GO BUT I NO THAT ITALIANS ARE CLOSE WITH THERE FAMILYS BUT I DO SEE WHERE RONNIE IS COMING FROM TIME TO GROW UP AND GET AWAY FROM MOMMY BUT SOME PPL CANT SHAKE IT"

I don't know the girl* who posted this but it made me question my faith in humanity.

It's not the fact that she is discussing the motivations of a member of the Jersey Shore cast that bothers me (at least not the most). I know intelligent people that enjoy that show for whatever reason.  Mostly, I assume, for the many opportunities to mock people who are failing spectacularly at life.

I could even overlook the fact she wrote it in all caps.  Although, to be honest, that is what drew me in to begin with.  I will never understand why a person would want to write everything he or she says as though yelling it.  Is everything you say that intense in real life?  Do you not understand the universal knowledge that ALL CAPS means THIS IS IMPORTANT AND/OR EMPHATIC?

The lack of any kind of punctuation that might indicate pauses or natural speech patterns is incredibly troubling.  And irritating. In my head, that paragraph (if you can call it that) could only be brought to life effectively by a toddler with ADHD.

But to me, the travesty of all those choices combined pales in comparison to the spelling.  Sweet Mother of God, the spelling.  I don't even know what else to say about it.

*Woman would be more accurate.  Upon further research I discovered that she is two years older than me and the mother of two.