I would really, really love

to be in love.

Solitariness

I am alone, but not lonely. Some people were made to be solitary. I did not realise this before. I never knew, before, how lovely it would be to walk by yourself, to watch an entire movie in the darkness of a theater without someone at your side, or how fulfilling it could be just to live this life alone- without someone trying to control, or influence, or change what you want and how you feel. It is so wonderful- so joyous- so liberating. Why do so many people want to be with so many people?

When people ask me how I can endure being alone so much, I want to ask them, "How can you endure, not being alone?" And I do not know why, or how; I only know that I have never been this content, I have never felt this safe. And I need this feeling of safety- I need it like so few people do. Why? I only know that deep within me is a mad compulsion to be safe, to stay at a distance, to keep my secrets. Nothing is more important than this need to be safe- nothing.

Work anxiety

I attended an interview today for a post as a trainee cook at a restaurant. I passed, and was hired, though the owner of the place -a rather stern-looking middle-aged man- seemed dubious at my ability. "Well," he said, "You're enthusiastic enough, but you're quite small, and kitchen work is really heavy. You don't want to be a waitress?" I was quite emphatic in assuring him that no, I had no intention of being a waitress. 

And just for note- I am about five feet four and weigh 104 pounds. I used to be exactly ninety-nine pounds, a nice pretty number that I wholly intend to return to. Yes, I have weight problems. And I am quite aware that a hundred and four pounds is already a weight most teenage girls would kill to be at, but as far as I am concerned this is more of a personal achievement than for any beauty purpose. As far as I can tell, I don't look any different now that I am five pounds heavier than I was two years ago. 

I will be working nine hours a day, six days a week, for slightly less than $250 a month. I am doing fifteen days as a trial, after which... is to be seen. For fifteen days, I will only be paid half of the amount above. In contrast, my sibling worked as an English tutor teaching for about two to four hours a week and earned about $80 a month. So while I am earning quite a bit more, I am working about four times as much as she did. Including Saturday, Sunday and Christmas, unless I should be so lucky as to have that day off- doubtful.

It is not the thought of so much work that troubles me. I am quite happy to be working, although it does seem quite a lot of work. But I know people who work twice as hard for half as much because they have no other opportunities. My only worry is caused by the fact that I am not independently mobile- I am not yet able to drive, something which distresses me greatly. It is the only thing that I am not yet able to achieve and the only thing that stops me from being completely independent.

When I pointed out the hectic schedule to my father he seemed completely unperturbed and said, "That is quite normal. It is normal working hours." Which it is quite, Father. Though I recall that you, in your office hours, didn't work Saturdays, Sundays and public holidays. So he said, "Think of it as a prelude of what is to come."

Old habits die hard. Unfortunate but true. After nearly a year of ascetic frugality, it seems almost bewildering to have so much money. This excess comes from the fact that the schooling year is over and I no longer need to pay for tuition, books, etc... at least until next year.

After deductions, I used to have about twenty dollars to spend a month however I liked. This deduction does not count food.  Basically, I never had any spare money to throw around, not if I was interested in eating in school anyway. Which I wasn't. But money will run away, somehow, if it can. I usually skipped meals in school three days out of five- a habit severely disapproved of by my family, or at least they would greatly disapprove of it if they knew.

However, as Aristotle said, if you pretend something long enough, you become it. There is also the (dubious) saying that if you practice something for more than 21 days straight it will become a habit. Consequently this self-starvation has, basically, given me the eating habits that, no doubt, are highly coveted by teenage girls desperate to lose weight. Although now I have more money that I can shake a fist at, I still eat only two meals a day -lunch and dinner- and I eat as little as I can get away with, usually one small soup bowl of whatever. I favour vegetables. I drink constantly- coffee, tea, water. These habits came about because a) Small meals can be eaten quicker: more time to study, and b) Liquids can be taken without interrupting study.

I cannot contemplate spending money either. I still refuse to buy clothes, and I feel slightly disturbed at the thought of watching a movie in a theater because I will have to pay for it. I don't eat fast food. I only make an exception for books, which are my sole desire.

This habits have all combined to make me feel both deeply austere and deeply disturbed. There is nothing wrong with this way of life, I know- it is just that everyone I know pressures me about it. My frugality was a sore point with a friend whose family is part of the nouveau riche: she once commented, rather darkly, about how self-denying I was. And of course there are all the people concerned by my eating habits. Too deep a reluctance to spend money, apparently, is as grave a worry as a tendency to be too fond of spending.

Whenever I am tempted by anything, however, I just have to think about the dreaded future and it is enough to keep my wallet safely in my pocket, where it belongs. (?)