My fortress of solitude

My life has been full, my October was busy and wonderful and now it's November. Time to blog. My life is indeed full and busy, and I am connected beyond the imagination of anyone from a couple decades could even imagine. I'm texted and Twittered and Facebooked and Google-Chatted and Google-Waved and on and on. I've filled my evenings with hanging out with all sorts of great people, even junior high kids. And I love being connected to these people that I really care about. However, being a borderline introvert all of this is enough to wear me out, and usually I'm exhausted by Thursday afternoon. I'm able to regroup then with some Hulutime or a run or a rare nap, but then I'm off again for the weekend. It's a good life, but I have to get some healthy alone time.

My fortress of solitude* was built in the twenties. It has been a brewery, a furnace factory, a storage space, and most recently a filming locale for The Experiment. I am, of course, talking about the warehouse at which I spend some of my vocational time. I realize that, if you're a steadfast reader of my blog, it may seem as though there have been times in which I've loathed the warehouse. Maybe I have, but those times are in the past and have been forgiven.

I generally have the whouse [pronounced house] to myself when I am there. The first order of business is to turn the radio from whatever pop station my coworker was listening to and put the dial to the NPR classical music station. And then if it's dark I fire up a couple of the light bulbs and maybe the furnace. Despite the music, it's a much quieter space than I'm used to. I think it would make sense that having introvert time would be more likely seen in sitting at my desk and putting my feet up. But it's actually moments like that when I spend too much time in my head and come out on the other side full of anxiety. Instead I find the heaviest boxes to lift, the dirtiest files to sort, the hardest project to work on and I get to it. Somehow while I'm working I'm able to think through things in a less intense manner, thus saving my brain from being fried.

The whouse isn't a place that is very home-ish or comfort-able. But it has grown on me and has become my fortress of solitude, my place of rest and of labor. There is a realization that I could very well not be working there by this time next year**, and it's definitely a bittersweet thought. I suppose when that day comes, I will just have to find myself another place to be an introvert. you have my love.


*this is a Superman reference, but it does not mean that I'm a "Superman-guy".
**I would actually love to buy the whouse and turn it into something really cool. I would just need approximately ten to fifteen million dollars to pull that off.