The Club of Belonging

I'm sitting at the desk of my hotel room, waiting for the heat to kick in and squeezing out the last couple hours of internet service I purchased yesterday. It seems that nothing is free anymore, except those little chocolates they leave when they turn down the bed. One of the perks to staying in overpriced, snobby hotels. I just heard the heat kick in.

I thought I would be bored here with no one to talk to, but I find it amazingly wonderful to be quiet all day and not talk to anyone. To memorize the shape of the ceiling and compare it to the shape of the bathroom ceiling. To listen to the click of someone walking above me, the family next door scrutinizing the sunset, and the elderly couple behind me at lunch congratulating themselves on "being smart" and planning ahead and getting the most for their money. I like wandering around, trying to figure out where stuff is without help.

I found myself planning out my day in a haphazardly way, with some lunch here, then a hot bath, a nap, walk to the beach, read, watch the sunset, do some research, order dinner, then visit the hot tub, and then see what happens. It seems like my life could be like this if I could just get rid of the clutter. Which is a gargantuan task (much bigger than it would seem to be).

There is still a hint of loneliness that I get from being alone, but only because I don't choose to be alone, I just am. At least I'm not required to hide it at the moment. In the past, I have always hated holidays because I had to work. I was operating on the premise that I was missing something because if I didn't have to work, someone special would invite me over for an evening of hanging out for no other reason than because it might be fun and because it's a holiday. I would go to work irked that I could be doing something fun with someone special, and be nearly brought to tears by the end of the evening because I had missed out (yet again) on enjoying a holiday. But this month, I have realized that all this work/holiday hostility is really just the construction I have created. I'm not at work, and I'm not with anyone special. There are no invites, no special evenings of shared experience. So really, work was actually protecting me from the simple fact that I am not special enough to be allowed in on the holiday cheer. I am only allowed to press my nose up against the glass and watch others share something that they can cherish for many years to come, wishing I could gain entry into what now seems to be the most exclusive club ever: The Club of Belonging.