Roommates

Breakfast at one in the morning is too good to be true. I shouldn’t have expected it to be stellar, but it didn’t have to be that bad. From the moment my plate passed under my nose and onto the table there was something not quite right about it, like the cook had grilled my bacon with the Tuna, or in the same skillet as the green peppers. My friend's artichoke dip was only a little better.

I’ve never been to this particular café before midnight and so I don’t know if it is equally as strange during normal eating hours. The entire front of the restaurant is covered with neon lights, and the inside is too. The ceiling of fluorescent panels erases any inkling of atmosphere or mood, and this does not fit with the flamboyant carpet of bright colors and potpourri decoration.

I was surprised at how many people were there eating. They were in groups, mostly, save the lonely guy behind me who took every opportunity to share conversation with his waitress each time she came to fill his water. With each pass she received a little more of his life story. There was a group in the corner of the non-smoking section laughing over and over. I accidentally picked "Living la Vida Loca" instead of "Don’t Stop Believing" on the Jukebox. But they didn’t laugh like I thought they would–they became quiet and left. I suppose Ricky Martin has that effect on people.

In between tortilla chips, my friend told me that she was frustrated with her living situation, that she and her roommates hadn’t been getting along so well and she’s not sure how much she can take. I thought about the living situations I had in college and how I sometimes felt that way, too. I remembered how hard it can be to live with people, to grow weary of saying sorry and being the peacemaker. I remembered all of the times I never said something when I should have, and the things I should have said differently, and the notes I shouldn't have ignored on the whiteboard.

I used to think that living with roommates was much harder to do, but living with family can be difficult in its own right, too. My family is one that is really open about frustrations and hurts, things don’t get much time to fester–which is good. But that openness doesn’t erase the possibility of conflict. When it comes town to it living with people is hard. Relationships are hard, but they’re worth it. And every tiff has turned me into a better person. Whether or not we have good relationships will decide for most of us how satisfying our lives will be by their end. The catch is we’ll have to work for them. And sometimes I wish I weren’t so hesitant to get my hands dirty.

posted by Cameron Lawrence at 02:22