Connection

Yesterday I felt disconnected.

I like our apartment. It's a loft that was converted from a mill that was built in the late 1800s. It's got a lot of character, and aesthetically I've always really enjoyed living there. The thing is - people feel somehow privileged to live in an old mill, and a result of this privileged feeling is snobbery. Since I've lived in this building, I have not really gotten to know anyone else who lives there. I've had a few odd brushes with neighbors, but not much more.

The thing is, I want more connection with my neighbor. I actually think about it. Long for it.

Don't get me wrong. I'm sure the people in my building are great people. It's just that getting to know the people who live around you isn't exactly fashionable anymore. After all, with the creation of Facebook and Myspace, who really needs to get out anymore?

I'm trying, though.

I baked my neighbors cookies once. I stood outside their door with a piece of cheap Tupperware filled with organic sugar cookies. I rang the doorbell and waited. I felt like I was waiting for the execution squad to show up. Like I'm tied to a post frantically puffing on my last cigarette. Why did I feel so much pressure? So much Awkwardness. I gave her the cookies and she was thankful; though, the interaction didn't really pan out like I had hoped. I think she took the gesture in more of a "Sorry my roommates were loud last night" kind of way.

After that, only really saw my neighbors in passing.

That was a while ago, and I recently got into that disconnected mood again (as I indicated earlier). I made an Oktoberfest six pack for them. Does this stuff come off as creepy? Maybe. I'm not sure how well it's received. Hospitality and kindness is, and often should be, received with caution these days. But maybe if I keep working at it - chipping away, I'll find some equilibrium in neighborly connection. After all, I know that Joey, my neighbor, is a chemical engineer.

I do know that.