Thirty-two inches

I chatted over Facebook with a friend from art school today and realized not how much I missed her, which I do, but rather how much I'm dependent on other people to make my life work. I've always been introverted at my own luxury. Safe in the thought that even if I don't need to speak to people on a daily basis, I still see them. The only person I've consistently seen on a daily basis for the longest time is myself. I'm not complaining about being lonely because I am always hanging out with my closest friends. No, what I'm talking about is an awareness of something deeper than simply not hanging out with people enough. It is the fact that there is a point where I cannot get any closer to a person than I am. I become aware of it when I reach that thresh and then withdraw. This is totally aside from the quality of my relationships with people, mind. But in that sobering moment of clarity, I could be surrounded by a legion of my favourite people, and feel empty.

So like the good consumerist I am, I bought possessions to make me feel better. I bought a modestly large high definition television to play video games on. And it helped. And I felt satisfied with its size in my apartment. And I felt productive today while I chatted with my friend, played video games, and listened to music.