If you drop by my apartment without telling me you’re coming, you’re making a lot of assumptions, most of which are completely wrong.
Clearly, you think I’m doing nothing. I have not had the luxury of doing absolutely nothing since after turning eight years old. I have very little idea what it is like to look at my own schedule and see that aimlessness is part of my to-do list. For all intents and purposes, let’s assume I am in fact doing nothing.
The absence of things, is still kinda technically a thing. I’m reading the Dalai Lama’s ‘Tips to a meaningful Life’, and he makes this point in words I can’t quite explain. He does this for a lot of thingas, actually, and I just go along taking his word, because The Dalai Lama has a significant amount more honors, and twitter followers than I have. When it comes to the case of nothingness. I like to believe crafting specific time to do nothing is also a thing that shouldn’t be interrupted, and that’s exactly what you did by showing up. You said, to HELL with your nothing. If I have to be tortured by the incessantness of my own thinking, you too must stop all the nothing you’re doing and deal with it too.
I find this unfair.
The other assumption we’re (and by we, I mean you) are making by dropping by unannounced. Is that the time I have been given in my 24 hours can willingly go to you. Nothing can be further from the truth, and I’d like to know what the fuck type of narcissism are you dealing with that allows you to really think the minute you show up into others’ lives is the same minute they are ready to pay attention to you. Go home. Preferably your home. Stop bothering innocent people who have already planned their day.
Part of my own life practice includes being as present as I can in anything I do. If II can’t be present, I don’t do it. When I’m ready to jump into writing, I cancel literally everything else from my field of attention. Perhaps I have a mother who loves me and wishes me well. Perhaps she doesn’t exist. I can’t quite remember. What I do know is that I have a whole blank page on a word processor document that is calling literally every ounce of my attention and power. I’m here to make sure that this page is satisfied. Afterwards, I will give 100% of my attentions and intentions somewhere else. A lover perhaps, myself if I’m fortunate.
By showing up to my apartment unannounced, you’re disrupting that process. Let me be fucking clear. I love writing. I like you.
Me and writing have been going at it for almost a couple of decades. She’s seen me through some ugly moments and stayed. She does not talk over me after asking “how my day was”. She gives me space to say whatever I want whenever I need, and I’ve been better for it.
I just met you at most, a year ago. Frankly, I was living a completely functional life before you showed up, and should the good Lord take you home tomorrow, I’m confident in my ability to maintain and even matriculate through this wild life.
So please, stop visiting my apartment without notifying me first.
The next time you do it, I’m going to look through my peephole, open no type of door, and continue on with my day, because, by law, I don’t have to do shit. Your failure to consider my schedule has no bearing on my existence. If you do it more than once, I will pick a time (based on my availability) where I will have to tell you something about yourself, and this thing will not be good, but you will learn and be better for it.
And yes, I’m doing this for me, but I’m also doing this for everyone whose schedule you might interrupt in the future. We don’t deserve this.