How to be alone
I afforded myself a great luxury a couple of mornings ago — on a Monday, to be exact, which is when this sort of thing is usually costlier and harder to come by. No, I didn’t shoot my monetary load on a booze-deluded, closing-time order of Grey Goose at a club or snap up some truffle-themed gourmet brunch at a high-end hotel — none of those purchase-afflicted pursuits that require money, or people even. What I did do that morning, while young, upward-mobility-force-fed-somethings like myself were supposed to be parking their work-trousered rumps on their swivel chairs, was stare at the ceiling.
It’s a brave new concept in these feverish times, staring at the ceiling — or stillness, rather. At 24, you begin to notice a lot of your friends catching the disease of life assessment, mostly from first job fallout, where you’re ready to ditch your post-college mission statement — “I wanna make my first million,” “I wanna do something I love,” “I wanna do someone I love” — for one that requires either more practicality or passion. After you’ve done your quarter-life rounds, punching in and out of a pressure-cooked existence, you’re further cornered in the palace of jadedness you’ve built from people (backstabbing work associates, mostly) you’ve now concluded to be carcinogenic, the nag ‘n’ nudge of parents who want you to prove your gonads work while you’re trying to find a mate willing to stand your bull, and your own financial standing alongside a world economy bent over and taking a fiscal spanking.
Homing in on the Lone Range
All these things had zeroed in on me up to the point that I woke up that Monday morning and decided to look up. My ceiling — a broad, smooth-to-the-eye, blank canvas of whiteness — was the momentary solace I needed while I was surrounded by life’s little insanities.
It’s an art, really — being alone. Some people use it as a mechanism to think hard and long before setting out on a new course in life, while some people can infuse aloneness into certain aspects of their being as a means to regain lost quality. In an article published in Spin magazine early last year, I read that Lenny Kravitz had re-virginized himself in order to rejuvenate himself. That meant drawing up a self-imposed clubbing curfew, passing on the backstage poon, and, well, packing his package airtight ‘til he found a woman who could offer him “mind and spirit” over physical matter. That he came out with an album entitled “It is Time for a Love Revolution,” which you may not have heard but had Rolling Stone declaring it “the best album Lenny Kravitz has ever made,” a testament to getting into yourself enough (and less of slipping yourself into others, as my man Lenny has) to pull out something of significance.
From my ceiling-surveying episode, I figured I could start a revolution of solitude myself. With the humidity rising and a red tide of anxiety washing over people and making everyone all red-faced and hotheaded, it’s easier to retreat into the bomb shelter in your head for some good ol’ peace of mind. Here are a few good things that are best done alone — ‘cause hey, there’s a lot of soul you can reap from going solo:
1. Nude for thought: The ultimate — and oft-forgotten — act of rediscovering oneself is revealing your self to yourself once more. It’s no secret that letting it all hang out is liberating, so spending a day buck naked is like telling the world to go **** itself. Fry an egg, water your cacti, settle that bare butt on every surface of your house and tell me you don’t feel your spirit lifted when you’ve claimed the privacy to set aside those everyday burdens we call clothes. Just try not to pass gas (and whatever else) on those surfaces.
2. Ride-emption: Stick to the vehicles made for one. You can get on a skateboard but riding a bicycle is wholly about going the distance from the momentum you’ve created — alone. Poetic, eh? Now try this with No. 1 and it’s like you’ve just embodied Lynrd Skynrd’s Freebird. Just keep your, uh, bike spokes away from densely populated areas.
3. Sloppy firsts: And seconds: The great thing about dining for one is that you can “get trough” and no one will judge you for it. Beef shawarma dripping with garlic mayo, triple-scoop double chocolate ice cream melting down your fingers, a high-stacked cheeseburger you can get down and dirty with — eating like a pig and eating your heart out can serve up a plateful of self-commune and spiritual sustenance with every bite.
4. Give yourself an art attack: The general consensus when it comes to admiring art is that you’ve got to share your experience. But really, there’s nothing like creating a “Rock out with your c*ck out” (again, applicable to No. 1) playlist you can dance alone to in the dark. And isn’t that cinema slogan “Relax, watch a movie!” fully realized when one is by their lonesome? ‘Course, since the Oscars is just about to unroll its red carpet right into our TV sets, we might as well slip those Winslet, Blanchett ‘n’ Streep-starring dibidis in and get all touchy-feely with all the high drama this season has to offer. Or hey, how about finishing a book not recommended by Oprah, or even by anyone? Head over to the bookstore, spend a couple of hours judging books by their covers — or their synopses (you know, what’s written on the back; look for key words that appeal to you or just sound good: “bravura,” “casual nihilism,” “gargantuan gangbang”), and devote some time to enriching yourself with that self-picked sucker.
5. Mind yourself more: That novel or exhibit you’ve always wanted to work on might take a little more discipline and solitary confinement, but all that “me” time can mean a lot of time for memes: those random song association quizzes, “25 Random Things” about yourself (Facebook loves the word “random”), and all the notes for trivial self-promotion you’ve been sent via e-mail or tagged with. Jotting down all those thoughts may even lead to great material for your memoirs. I mean, anyone can write those nowadays (Madonna’s brother, Tori Spelling, even Perez Hilton’s got his brain farts bound in a book) so that journey into your memory might just exorcise a few demons and cough up a story worth reading. Memoirs of a Slutty Colegiala, anyone?
6. Lone star flight: Screw all the constraints of Filipino barhopping and have a drink alone. Sure, the bartender may not be able to pour you a shot of wisdom but there’s something about nursing that highball — independent of the crowd around you — that screams no-bull freedom.
7. Vroom for change: What, you’ve never seen a movie where the main character’s cruising down the freeway, an unescorted nomad speeding away from society’s complexity? As soon as you reclaim yourself — by yourself — on the road, return may be optional.
