I’m alone.
I’m in New York.
I’m here to write papers and stories and watch movies and make a short film with a group of students.
I’m sort of at a loss right now as all of this is stuff that I like, but it is weird for me because I’m doing something I really enjoy instead of doing something I am required to do to take care of family or pay my bills.
I mean, I will still be working, I do a lot of work from home right now anyway, but instead of being five minutes away, I am now several hours away from my office. But in essence, everything I am doing is just for me.
Which is scary. Scary, and exciting, and scary again.
Last week I was having a conversation with a co-worker about my trip and the fact that I realized when my flight was confirmed that this is going to be the longest I’ve ever been alone in my entire life. I’m not totally alone obviously, I am house-sitting/cat-sitting for friends, so I have a cat with me, but I’m person alone.
I’m in my mid 40s and I’ve never been person alone for more than 2 days in a row before now. I mean it is only day 1 right now, so I feel pretty solid, I will have to evaluate and check back in with myself after day 5 of being person alone to see if this is something that will work.
It is just funny (odd) to think that I’m doing activities just for me in a place where I’m staying all alone. It is strange to me to think that I get to decide everything all by myself every step of the way.
I’m pretty sure I can do it, but in the end, the only person that I’m responsible to, that I could possibly disappoint, or that I can really make happy for the next two weeks, is me.
Hopefully I will not judge me too harshly.