On Being a Stranger

"I melt into the air with a voluptuousness so delicate that I am content to be alone." - Keats

It's been one week since I've seen a familiar face, but I'm surprisingly not lonely. Not bored. Not scared. Living with strangers, working with strangers, and churching with strangers has been a more enjoyable adventure than I anticipated.

A few semesters ago, I took a creative writing class. Our class discussions often steered off-topic, and one fine day our professor began to make fun of people who are afraid to go anywhere alone. He was a young, charming, surfer-dude-poet type character: "Like, why do you have to take a friend to the movies? You just sit there. And you don't have to know the person next to you on the 6 Flags ride. Like, what if you had a friend and all you did together was go to heavy metal concerts? You would know nothing about them. You might as well stand by a total stranger!" The class giggled and agreed with his remarks, but with a few shy glances around the room I could tell everyone was thinking: Oh rats! I never go anywhere alone and he's totally judging me. And yep, I'd never really been anywhere alone. Embarrassed, I decided that I'd like to be the person who can go places alone and not care.

So here we are over a year later and only recently have I adventured to do anything on my own. But seriously, this has been the ultimate crash course. I've been to the grocery store three times, all alone. Two coffee shops, all alone. The Nashville Public Library, all alone. Shelby Park, all alone. I moved into a house in which I knew no one. I started an internship at which I knew no one. I went to three church services at which I knew no one.

But doing things alone has been far from lonely. I like the new people I live with (including the dog and two cats!). I like the new people I work with (we went bowling together!). I like the people at those church services (made two new friends!). Being a continuous stranger, people treat me really well- like I'm a guest. Not that I deserve it, but I'm trying to appreciate it.