So going to the doctors on Monday made me realize something. I mean, I’d sort of noticed it in a peripheral sort of way, and made jokes, but I’d never really thought about it much. I goof around about having to go to such great lengths as “clothes” to take my son to school in the morning. I teased my husband that I’m moving to Japan and planning to become a hikikomori. I have been known to spend all weekend in my pajamas just because I can.
Basically, I dislike having to leave my house. I actually kinda resent it. I mean there are people out there! Like, people that expect me to do things like have manners and know basic social conventions! I am not good with real live people, what can I say?
Maybe that’s how I got so hooked on stories? The people in stories don’t expect me to understand how to react. I can get into their heads and see what makes them tick and it makes actual sense. Mostly. (More on that later, maybe…) I can never seem to think fast enough to deal with people in front of me in real life, but a fictional one on a screen or a stage or a page? I can get my brain around that person.
I still have to go out to take my son to school though. And there’s still at least one last show for me to work on before we move, and a few friends here care enough to force me to get out and be social. And even in Tokyo there will be friends to see and new friends to meet and adventures to be had, so I won’t just stay in my apartment all alone, I promise.
Although, as a writer, I might have to block off a few days every week to live up to the expectations of me, my coffee, and my rickety typewriter. I aim to please, after all.