I have never been one to complain about solitude. Being alone and being able to spend personal time with no one else but yourself is a luxury and a blessing. It is when I do the most reflecting, thinking and feeling; the time when I do the most growing up. Sometimes I walk in the park enjoying the natural quiet, sometimes I go to a shopping mall and take in the crowds and noise, sometimes I just like to spend time with a book and some good food, sometimes I people watch, sometimes I watch a movie, sometimes I take a longer untraveled route just to see where I would end up. Solitude is my best friend, and even more so when I started teaching and could appreciate the pockets of personal solitude and quiet even more.
But in recent weeks, solitude has become somewhat too familiar. I know what kind of food and drink solitude would find most comfortable, I know what kind of music solitude likes to listen to. Solitude has become predictable and because it has become predictable, it has become boring. What previously excited my palate no longer incites the same burst of flavour and youth as it did.
– 31 October 2012