A friend commented on a forum that he is ‘such a wuss’ about turbulence while flying. Well, who isn’t?
My greatest fear around turbulence on flights used to be the terror that they would stop serving liquor to passengers. I could face death but not enforced sobriety. And the more gin I drank, the more it looked as if the wing was falling off or the undercarriage dangling by one metal thread. To make matters worse, I was always seated next to the hijacker disguised as a clean-shaven soft-spoken businessman.
Paranoia, I have known it.
Another bright and windless day, another chapter written and edited. There is lasagna ready for the oven, blanched and peeled tomatoes ready for bottling. The dogs sprawled at my feet as I work in the study, all gazing at me in rapt dog love. Also known as the canine hope of another b-i-s-c-u-i-t.
Admittedly, there is no running water, but I have filled the bath with cold water so we will not die of thirst. Although the neighbour who is coming around for lunch may not like the idea of drinking a glass of bathwater with her lasagna.
The old solitude/loneliness conundrum. This same neighbour who is married and lives with a husband, two teenagers and a mother-in-law, pointed out crossly that I have more of a social life than she does. Which is true enough and many people who work from home welcome sociability when the day’s work is done. The singleton who wrote Going Solo: The Extraordinary Rise and Surprising Appeal of Living Alone, Eric Klingenberg, discusses the paradoxes of single living:
We need to make a distinction between living alone and being alone, or being isolated, or feeling lonely. These are all different things. In fact, people who live alone tend to spend more time socializing with friends and neighbors than people who are married. So one thing I learned is that living alone is not an entirely solitary experience. It’s generally a quite social one.
I too know paranoia, how unbearable it becomes when we can have no comfort in the face of terror. Gorgeous writing as ever.
‘No comfort in the face of terror’ is a good way to put it, Elisabeth. As a political activist, I’ve known all kinds of terror and paranoia around detentions and police harassment, as well as the paranoia of jealousy in love affairs. The kind of paranoia I was talking about here has to do with drinking heavily on long flights, that awful dehydrated and addled certainty that the danger is out there instead of in here.
Last week end I finally got my husband to make vegetarian lasagna, and leave out the dreadful meat! Goes to show if you nag for 34 years, sometimes a person will come around!
Thanks for your enthusiastic reply about the book. It’s all in my head, I’ve done nothing to make it real. But after your sweet reply, I spent the day daydreaming of my fantastic review in the New York Times Sunday edition…;)
Vegetarian lasagna 34 years in the making! I have about three classic veggie lasagnas I make with butternut & spinach, tomato & courgette, spinach & ricotta & pine nut. In fact some of them are more filling than meat.
Lou, I meant the offer. I’d happily work with you on a book proposal and synopsis or give you feedback on your first chapter. Writing is humbling and rewarding, but the humbling part comes first. By the time those dazzling reviews appear, you will be too hard at work on your next book to even notice them.
I live alone but rarely spend a day without visiting with someone. For the most part I like myself enough to spend an entire day with just me. Sometimes I do get lonely. Alone is ok. Lonely is not. I can feel the difference.
Marcia I live with the housemate but she is away much of the time and I am childless (childfree?) so I also rely on friends for company. Alone is good at times but making the effort to be with others is so important for me.
I live alone and have to make an effort to socialize. In fact, it is on my list of things to do this year. “Invite someone to do something at least once a month.”
Mary Christine I go through times like that — my worst is December when I have to force myself to send out invites or respond to invites. But I know how important it is to keep connections alive and get out, make new friends, relax after a day’s work.
In my house we spell d-i-n-n-e-r, b-i-s-c-u-i-t, b-e-d, b-u-t-t-e-r and D-a-p-h-n-e (the dog next door.)
D-a-p-h-n-e just cracks me up, that is hilarious!
I may get the book. I enjoy living alone and feel at odds with people in my community. Appalachia (around my area) is quite clannish. But I have certainly been out more and have met more people than when I was married.
Kristin it takes time to get a feeling of belonging and some places are easier than others. I ‘fit’ with locals here because I speak Afrikaans and isiXhosa, if I relied on English-speaking friends it would be tougher.
Lou, you are very funny.
I once was on a plane that was landing in Palm Springs and turbulence was so bad I thought I saw the wings flapping.
When I lived in Paris, about every three months an AA visiting would come in and explain how they lost their sobriety via the drinks trolly on the flight over. This was after three days of wine on the Seine as well. Of course it was their little secret, not going to tell my homegroup members back home. Next day meeting, I called my sponsor, next day meeting, they are so miserable, they wish they never had taken the holiday.
We spell w-a-l-k
Jan, those delusions aboard flights — and I know that churning mix of dread and anticipation at the sight of the little drinks trolley!
The dog seems to understand the spelled-out word w-a-l-k so we now talk about ‘that thing we do with Satchi’ so he doesn’t go berserk with excitement.