Why Go Out?

As the dregs of the semester grind away at everyone's motivation, I find myself reading more. This reading, more than anything, is propelled by a desire to procrastinate "productively." My astronomy problem set might not be started, but at least I'm challenging myself with this collection of William Blake poems. Right?

As one might infer, reading more has also meant that I'm staying in my room more. I haven't left the building yet today, choosing instead to clean, to stare at my ceiling, and to play musical instruments that I've no idea how to play.

This might not be entirely healthy, but my point is that everyone needs time alone. And if you're like me, you need a lot of it.

So it was serendipitous when I stumbled across this article by Sheila Heti. It's called "Why Go Out?" The entire article is hyperlinked in the title below, but I've included a few of my favorite excerpts. (Sorry, Ms. Heti, to bastardise your piece.)

Once I click "publish," I'm going to finish my astronomy homework and (eventually) make my way outdoors.

Maybe.

* * * * *

From "Why Go Out?" by Sheila Heti

For many years I have asked myself, Why do you spend time with other people? but I never really attempted to come up with an answer. I always believed I was asking myself a rhetorical question, but this week I thought I would try and find an answer, because a question you ask yourself a thousand times eventually deserves to be answered. 

And I figure if I know why I go out, I might feel less suspicious of myself for going out. I might criticize myself less. I might be able to look around a party without thinking, What a fool – why did you come – you should have stayed at home.

At home, you can wear your pyjamas. No one is going to snub you or disappoint you. 

I’m always super-conscious of how whenever I go out into the world, whenever I get involved in a relationship, my idea of who I think I am utterly collides with the reality of who I actually am. And I continue to go out even though who I am always comes up short. I always prove myself to be less generous, less charming, less considerate, not as bold or energetic or intelligent or courageous as I imagined in my solitude. And I’m always being insulted, or snubbed, or disappointed. And I’m never in my pyjamas. 

And yet, in some way, maybe this is better. Each of us...could suffer the pangs of withdrawal and gain the serenity of the non-smoker. We could be demi-gods in our little castles, all alone, but perhaps, at heart, none of us here wants that. Maybe the only cure for self-confidence and courage is humility. Maybe we go out in order to fall short… because we want to learn how to be good at being people… and moreover, because we want to be people.