"
I find it wholesome to be alone the greater part of the time. To be in company, even with the best, is soon wearisome and dissipating. I love to be alone. I never found the companion that was so companionable as solitude. We are for the most part more lonely when we go abroad among men than when we stay in our chambers. A man thinking or working is always alone, let him be where he will. Solitude is not measured by the miles of space that intervene between a man and his fellows. The really diligent student in one of the crowded hives of Cambridge College is as solitary as a dervish in the desert. The farmer can work alone in the field or the woods all day, hoeing or chopping, and not feel lonesome, because he is employed; but when he comes home at night he cannot sit down in a room alone, at the mercy of his thoughts, but must be where he can "see the folks," and recreate, and as he thinks remunerate himself for his day's solitude; and hence he wonders how the student can sit alone in the house all night and most of the day without ennui and "the blues"; but he does not realize that the student, though in the house, is still at work in his field, and chopping in his woods, as the farmer in his, and in turn seeks the same recreation and society that the latter does, though it may be a more condensed form of it. "
I read Walden my junior year in high school. My teacher, Ms. Carp, introduced the book as either you love it or hate it. I had grown eary of the obooks. Junior year english was full of literature. THeir eyes were watching God, The Scarlet Letter, The sun also rises, Huckleberry Finn. I dont like literature. As I dont like most fiction. Even movies, i generally prefer a good documentary over a heartwarming tale. In2nd grade in our trip to the library, I found it helpful to remember fiction vs. non fiction by pairing fiction with 'fake'. I wonder if that colored my later experieneces with it.
But THoreau and the rest of the trancedentalists caught me. It wasnt fake. It was something real. It was observational. Nothing intrigues me more than someones observations. But it turns out i was the only one who 'loved it'. Class after class, my peers lambasted the book, calling him cynical and a loser who had no friends. But what i saw in his work reflected my own experiences. Like literally sitting in a room full of people and not feeling in any way connected to another person. It was such a common feeling for me, i had grown accustomed to being the only one, loniliness was my steady companion. It was in this class that i realized that being alone was second nature to me.
I was talking to a friend. She asked me why i had built up so much resentment toward people with money. I told her that evryone around me had more money than me, it always seemed like they 'could' and i 'couldnt'. They got things, I wanted things. To try to even the playing field I worked at the local star market for a year bagging groceries. In my blue shirts and khaki pants i scanned groceries for 5.50/hr, but even that never reallly got me past first base. The resentment, i tell her, was the only way i could be jealous and still like the people around me. If i didnt hold the jealosy inside, i wouldnt be able to talk to anyone around me. It was a functional jealosy.
It hurt. I felt disconnected. Lost a lot of confidence. And it wasnt that i wanted there to be people poorer than me because i get nothing from feeling better than someone else. I just wanted to be able to relate to someone. The median household income in my town was 85,000. Our household income was not even a quarter of that. I wanted there to be another Black girl in Belmont, who lived with her single mother and shared a room with her sister. Or something even remotely similar. Never happened. Oddly enough, people i went to HS with complain about not having any rent money, or money for utilities, now as adults they can relate, but that was my entire childhood.
And sometimes that feeling of not being able to realte still haunts me. I still dont have a lot of friends that i feel close too.I fucked up the friendship i had with my best friend and now i feel even more alone than i ever have.
And what does this have to do with thoreau, well everything and nothing. he was just on my mind today. I needed to read that passage again and feel the way i did in that Junior year class...
