Part of being more social, I guess, is that I begin to miss people. I grow accustomed to their presence. I start looking forward to the next meeting, the next phone call, the next get-together with friends. Anticipation keeps me excited about the weekend.
But it also makes the weekdays harder to bear. Hours pass less quickly. I find myself passing the time with activities that do not engage me fully. Passing the time! How terrible an idea. To live sub-optimally for a number of days, just waiting for a few hours of fun… Whatever happened to the fun I used to find in hacking on some obscure bit of Emacs code or browsing through online documentation? My hours are spoiled by hope.
And when the weekend comes, what then? Hope can so easily turn into expectations, even though I know it is foolish to expect anything. I begin to wonder if things might not be better a different way. I begin to wish I was having a nice, deep conversation – or even a silly one – instead of just passively watching television. I begin to expect, to measure, and once I begin doing so I allow myself to become disappointed.
It does not have to be that way, does it? I should just remind myself that all of this is a nice extra; not essential, not expected, but appreciated whenever it’s there. Still, it is difficult.
True, there is much about this ‘being social’ that I enjoy. I like the conversations and the surprising insights other people have.
I do not need to pretend to be social in order to enjoy my life.
Perhaps I should end the social experiment and return to my normal routines. I miss those Saturdays of learning or coding or simply lazing around; days that were mostly under my control, that did not wait on anyone or anything in order