Lessons in Solitude: Arriving.

4.19.11.

It is cozy in this private room of Charleston's NotSoHostel. Titled the "Dylan Room," I cannot help but wonder if it is named after the great Bob Dylan. Single bed. Bare, wood floors. A quaint, antique-looking desk in the corner facing one of two windows.

Took three trips to lug all of my things into this room. This is my retreat, my getaway. So I want it to feel as comfortable as possible...in a simplified, bare-essentials-kind-of-way.

11:21 pm.

My GPS...er TomTom (affectionately called "Templeton" on occasion) informs me that I have arrived at 516 Spring Street. So why can I not find what I'm looking...

11:42 pm.

Still driving in circles within a half-mile radius, I'm sure. Just...want...to...park. And...sleep.

12:15 am.

My things are loaded in. There are quite a few people sitting and chatting on the second story porch outside of my room. Maybe I'll say hello?

12:16 am.

Oh wait. One predominant male voice is discussing (lecturing, perhaps? Certainly not conversing - I only hear one voice..) the economy and taxes. At 12ish am? No thanks. I'll be an introvert tonight.

12:50 am.

Room complete. So homey. Perfect for solitude. Now do I move it all out before 10 am? Money issues...

12:59 am.

Wash hands. Face feels gross. Everything feels gross after sitting in a car with myself for nearly 6 hours. Need to wash face. Why not use the hand soap for my face? Who says I can't? My face is covered in skin just as my hands are covered in an outer layer of skin. Done. My face feels awesome. And smells like lavender. Sometimes rebellion is the best option.

1:35 am.

(1) Time for sleep. (2) I'd really like to write more, though.

Okay you win, Option #2.

1:36 am.

On the drive here, I had a hypothetical glimpse into my near future (some prefer to call this a "daydream"). In this daydream, I chose this solitary retreat to be one not just of solitude, but a vow of silence. My dorm room neighbors were fascinated by my quiet manner and eventually asked me to explain. I grabbed a piece of paper and wrote the words: "vow of silence. spiritual thing." The girls were intrigued and invited me to the beach with them where we never spoke words to one another, but instead shared in the bond of peaceful, wordless days on the shore.

Such 'saintly' daydreams. We'll see how that pans out.

Now I'm thinking it might not be a bad idea to spend my time in (1) silence. (2) Or mostly silence.

Option #2 again.

Okay sleep. Good night, me.

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