Roommates

In Spring of 2012 I studied abroad in London, and lived in an international dorm situation that honestly really sucked. When I found out I was coming back for a year, I decided I wanted to live in a house or an apartment, and so didn’t apply for the postgraduate dorms offered by my school. Halfway through the summer I had a meltdown about making friends and changed my mind, but it was too late. So I’ve ended up living in a student apartment a little bit further from central London, with seven roommates.

I was totally excited about this, thinking I would automatically be surrounded by seven people of a similar age, looking to make friends. Nope. I basically live alone, except that I share a kitchen with seven messy ghosts.

My roommates and I all go to different schools in London, which again I thought would be interesting, but has turned out to mean that they all have friends at their own schools and the only signs that they exist are slamming doors and dirty dishes. I have met a few of them in passing, and they seem quite nice, but not interested in developing any sort of friendship with anyone they live with (what a strange concept!).

Just as I finished that last sentence, someone knocked on my door for the first time ever. I was SO EXCITED and jumped out of bed to answer the door, outfitted in my traditional uniform consisting of:

no makeup
giant university t-shirt
no bra
pajama shorts covered in rainbow cats
hairy legs

Nothing to stop me making a new friend!

It was a maintenance man. Who was here by accident.

What is wrong with this place?

When does small talk over evening cooking become friendship? I am proudly able to say that I have been friendlier and more open than usual since I’ve been here, trying my best to make friends. But I guess everybody already has friends?

So the roommate method isn’t going to work. No worries, I have my little cocoon of food posters, kitten pillows, and candles. Never mind that the storage system is spread around the room so much that I basically live in a giant closet. That’s actually kind of nice.

No matter that my one friend I have met so far who happens to also be American but also gorgeous keeps getting asked out left and right and will surely have friends in a jiffy. I always have my cocoon! Tomorrow I have my first class focused specifically to my graduate program, and ideally these people will be friendly and interested in getting a drink after class…WHAT IF THEY AREN’T? Cocoon.

Stay cozy.

 Cozy.

 Cozy and delicious.

Lonely At Last

When people embark on great journeys alone, they are seen as brave, strong, exciting souls. Graduate school in London you say? How exciting! All the new friends you will meet! The adventures you will have!

So far, not so much. Sometimes you are not brave, strong, or exciting, and you spend your first three weeks cowering in your room on the internet. Not everyone is adventurous and confident and spirited, like a dreadlocked Australian on her gap year in Thailand (no bitterness implied). So you drown your sorrows in way way way WAY too much shopping, even though you still can’t find a job, and FaceTiming with your boyfriend.

Does this sound like you? It doesn’t sound like anyone else I’ve ever met, heard of, or read about online. Everyone else seems to trip over adventures and friends around every corner. It sounds like me. Little old me, with a perpetual fear of being alone, instantly hurdled into a state of depression on the first day of summer vacation when all my friends were at summer camp. For someone who is as annoyed by most of humanity as I am, I have had a shockingly hard time accepting loneliness in my life.

Learning to be alone is seen as such a strong suit in people, people like those dreadlocked Australians on their gap years who you’ll find on any given night staying in a hostel alone in Bangkok or Tel Aviv or Cairo. I’ve always said I wanted to do these things, but who does them alone? HA! What if I hate being alone? Am I a weak person? I’m starting to realize I probably am. Don’t get me wrong, I love being alone when it’s my choice, and there are friends to turn down. But shouldn’t I be able to be a happy person even when life is not so self-affirming?

So here I sit and vow to make a change. I wait eagerly for the day that I can contentedly say that I did nothing but be with myself all day. I have been ashamedly able to say this many a time, but to be fully secure in this life experience is nothing I have ever felt before. Once, I spent a day exploring Edinburgh all by myself, and it was amazing. I saw everything I wanted to see in my own way and had a grand ball of a time. But I still feel bad about the fact that I had no one to share it with, like there is something wrong with me because of it. Sharing travels is amazing, but enjoying them on your own has to be just as valuable.

I seek to find the value in loneliness and point it out to myself. Perhaps sharing my travels with the two people who will find this blog in the midst of late night breakdowns will satisfy me somewhat, at least until I can finally make friends in my new city. (See! So what if I don’t? I can still have a great year by myself! Right?) Note to self: in learning to be lonely, learning to cease all self-doubt is seemingly crucial.

Well, here I go…