tanaise | (no subject) (Reply)

When I graduated from college, my roommate and I moved to an apartment building in the DC area, and every day, when I came home from work, I thought how wrong it was that all the doors in the hallway were closed, and how wrong it was that I couldn’t even recognize our neighbors by sight. In college, we’d been the only upperclassmen, and the only girls, in a hallway of freshman, and our door was only closed when we were asleep. Our neighbors were in and out of our living room, and even when we were doing homework or studying, we’d leave the door open, and accept interruptions as a part of the price to pay for living in a community. It was this that I missed the most when I graduated—the loss of a community of my peers, replaced instead by closed doors and anonymity. It was not perfect, and there were times when I wished I could close the door and lock myself away from the rest of the hallway, but even then I liked the fact that someone would worry about me, someone would miss me.
I lived a short walk from the Florida Street meeting in Dupont Circle while I lived in DC, and when I moved up here, I wanted to find a place close enough to a meeting to be able to attend regularly. I found again, a sort of community—a different sort of community than I’d been part of in college, but people who shared my values, my beliefs, even my upbringing. I didn’t have a local meeting when I was growing up, just quarterly and yearly meeting events to look forward to, and the meeting I attended a couple of times while in college was predominantly older. Florida Street had a strong Young Adult Friends population, and I valued the group immensely.
In DC, at least, I had my college roommate to provide a level of community for me, but I moved to Boston on my own. What I hope the Beacon Hill Friends House will provide is a more stable jumping off point for me, a place to help me make friends and (ideally) find a more permanent place to live.

And my life? Just not that exciting right now. There was a miscommunication with my temp agency, so they didn't know I needed work until Monday, so nothing today, and, it seems, nothing tomorrow either. Bah. I'll probably go into town, drop the application off at the Friends House (Because it would be faster. But would it be more professional to mail it?), and go to the library. I read most of my books already.

So I went grocery shopping. My senior year in college, one of my friends came over to the room, and she was listing all the things that we'd have to do the next year, all the stuff that made us 'grown up." and I don't remember any of the list, except one. "We'll have to buy our own toilet paper," she said, in this horrified sounding voice. And I always remember that when I'm shopping and have to buy toilet paper. It's quite possibly the strangest rite of passage in my life, but it's amusing, too.

It's gone stark white outside, oh, though it's receded a little bit since i last glanced out the window--I could only see this hill before, but now I see to the...appartment buildings? or some such a ways down the street. And I'm going downstairs to watch TV and eat something for dinner. No news from Say..., so I'm guessing it's bad news. Email acceptances are all well and good when you get one, but it's just sad when you don't, and you know you're just going to have to wait until you get the sad envelope that may well say nice things, but will still be the sad envelope.