Different Directions

Today my brother moved out. He took with him his belongings sans a horror of a cat and headed east toward Bozeman where he’ll be interning (with pay, a luxury to which I can’t claim) at a site some miles out of town where they are studying the planting of carbon dioxide within the earth. That is my complete knowledge on the topic. Today, however, was spent on this end, looking for an apartment: day four. I had two apartments that were going to work and both were taken. What I didn’t realize is that the best was yet to happen. Not only do I think I’m getting my dream apartment, it comes with my dream apartment complex, and I’m teaming up with a freshly-planted Californian roommate on it. He likes micro-brews; I like singing loudly. With any luck, and some fortune from the goddess of such, Fortuna, I will land this place tomorrow on what is quickly becoming my routine of driving to Missoula.

Speaking of singing loudly, what is it with postings for roommates that state in such quantity, “I’m a quiet person, looking for the same.” Or as someone just wrote me, “I’m a boring, quiet person.” Well, great. You sound like someone I want to live with. Every time someone tells me their quiet, I get a mental picture of a plush arm-chair with a heavy-eyed man sitting there falling asleep. The problem here is that I’m not quiet. I never have been and it’s just not a personality trait I can consider part of me. I blare (good) music, and sing my heart out to it; I dance in my living room and run up and down my hallway. I run to my car even. Frankly, walking gets old. I hum while eating cereal. I talk to myself. I think out loud and have sudden outbursts when I’m happy. My laugh could shatter eardrums and my simple smile talks. In short, I’m a quiet person’s worst nightmare. Of course, the difference is, I don’t throw ragging parties and I’m not up until the wee hours of the night being loud. Actually, it’s all I can do to keep my eyes open past twelve. Night is my quiet time; but by day, I’m loud and full of life. It’s a secret that not many know – except those disgruntled past roommates. But who wants to room with someone who blatantly admits to being rambunctious and overly energized (aka loud)? I know I wouldn’t. So when someone writes me saying, “I’m a quiet person looking for the same.” I reply with, “What a fortunate coincidence, I’m quiet too.” Deep down I know there’s more loud people like me.