Comfort Zones

Happy surprise: I thought that I had to do a week's worth of reading tonight for my class tomorrow night. But, since I've already done 2/3 of the reading, I think that I shall blog instead. Nothing like doing things in order of importance! I actually started this post last night, but then went to put my little computer to sleep and it decided to shut down instead (stupid instant updates) and I didn't save anything. So here it is again. Hope it's worth something the second time around. (I enjoy using fragments; really.)

So the whole point today centers around how issues of my personal space and comfort zones have come up repeatedly in the last few days. This isn't just the whole hey-I'm-pregnant-but-that-doesn't-give-you-any-right-to-just-touch-my-belly-without-asking rant from a few days ago. But, that is part of it, absolutely. Pre college, I thought that I was normal and never really questioned such issues; I still want to think that I'm normal and that others are somewhat creepy how they seemingly have no concept of personal space. Yet as I think about this, I keep hearing my mom say things like, "Be nice...there's nothing wrong with that." Why is it that I've never been able to communicate my space issues with others--mom, Ben, mother-in-law, anyone? Usually, I fall back on the more comfortable via less confrontation strategem of non-verbal cues; surely, they'll understand what my body language is saying and back off. That never works! Argh.

I have space issues in many ways. I seem to live in a bubble of self-constructed comfort zones and have some internal infrared laser radar alert system that goes off the moment one of these zones has been breached. Don't get too close to me! I don't want you to know that I haven't brushed my teeth today!! What are you doing?!? I haven't read my newspaper yet today and you're ruining the fresh, crispness of it!! (an odd one, but true) Stop! Please ask me before you just open my freezer. Wait! Don't ever assume that you can put things in my closet... Incosequential, I know. But gratingly, disastrous-to-my-mental-psyche, annoyingly, can't ignore the niggling bugginess that it gives me, horrid. Why does it really matter if Ben opens up my morning newspaper before I get to it? Is it really a big deal that the mother-in-law puts a carton of ice cream in my freezer or gets into my coat closet without my permission? Now that I have a house, why does that mean that my personal space has expanded from one 10x14 bedroom to a 1200 sq. ft. house? It's really not fair to people around me.

This must be why I'm such a homebody. I have no comfort zone that I love more than my home, wherever that is, and I'm always comfortable there. At this point in the post, I'm amazed that I found someone else who really seems to fit so well into this niche that I have created for myself. Why does it seem to work with Ben but not with others? I love these other people, too. Maybe my cat is more of a valuable teaching tool than one might think. At this point, she's taking over my keyboard as I'm trying to type. It's just a message to say, "Let it go; space is relative. Cats have no space issues, and we get along tremendously."

What must I have been like in college, in a communal living environment? If you knew me then and/or lived with me then, I feel for you. But then again, we all seemed to be somewhat neurotic in our own ways. ;-)

Instead of a quote today, here's a challenge: How many adverbs can you use in one sentence? Something that I wrote earlier made me think about it. I'm just curious; I've not tried to see how many I can do and still make a coherent thought.