98%.

Out of curiosity, I worked out today how much time I spend alone. I added up the amount of time I spend with my ex, Helen, with Sarah, and with my neighbour. Then I added a factor to account for the time I spend talking with people like shop assistants, bank tellers and the like. Then I did the calculation: 2%. It doesn’t require a great deal of mathematical acumen to convert that number into the telling statistic. I spend 98% of my time alone.

This doesn’t cause me as much difficulty as I’m sure it would cause a lot of people, but it does have an interesting side effect. I’ve spent the greater part of my life to date living and working with other people, so I know what it’s like. And one thing I know is that living and working with other people encourages even the most wayward and questioning of minds to generally work along lines that are acceptable and comprehensible to the majority. In short, it encourages at least one of your two feet to stay mostly between the tram lines. Which isn’t such a bad thing, I suppose, because it keeps the majority of us functioning as an homogenous species, rather than wandering off and doing strange things in isolation.

Things are different when you spend 98% of your time alone. It not only frees the mind to wander down lanes and alleyways that the majority don’t even know exist, it positively encourages it. I assume that’s why I’m met with blank stares sometimes when I say things that make perfect sense to me.

Is this a good thing? I really don’t know.