11 January 2001 ~ The guy in the window...

On the way home from work, I caught sight of a kid sitting at a desk in a fourth floor apartment half a block from my house. He looked about my age, although I only saw him for a split second, and didn't really get a very good look. His windows are all uncovered, his lights are all on, and I could see the overhead lights, and some of the furnishings. It looked sparse and cold.

I came home to my own place, got out of the car, picked up my mail, and came inside to my own well-lit, sparsely-furnished, cold apartment on the second floor. I opened my mail, a bill from the electric company (once I pay them the eighty dollars they've billed me, they're crediting my account with seventy-five dollars, because I never use any of the electricity I pay for...), and thought about the kid in the window.

What would happen if, right now, I walked out of my house, climbed the stairs of his building, and knocked on his door? What would I say? Would he think I'm some kind of freak? Would I tell him about work, and my electric bill, and the book I'm reading, and my boyfriend and my mom and my kitten? Would we light cigarettes and talk all night? Would we take a walk around the block, griping about politics and Binghamton?

Who IS that guy?

Of course, this is Binghamton, the wes'side, to be exact, and if I walked up there and knocked on his door and said, "hey, whatcha doing up so late?" he'd probably call the cops and get a restraining order...

In ways, one of the things I miss about college was the ability to walk into anybody's dorm room at any time and say, "hey, wanna go do something?" or chat all night about nothing in particular.

Why is it such a strange thing to want to know my neighbors? Is there someone outside on the street looking in my window and wondering what I'm doing up so late? Why are people so segregated, so isolated? Why does it seem like such a crime against society to fancy trying to meet a new person by walking up to them when they're clearly awake and functioning, and saying hello? Is that guy reading this website now? Is he petting a kitten on his lap and drinking Orangina?

I wish I knew.

Goodnight.
~Helena*