Old Friends and Rooms

Dr. Gregory House: "They're out there, doctors, lawyers, postal workers, some of them doing great, some of them doing lousy. Are you going to base your whole life on who you got stuck in a room with?"

Eve: "I'm going to base this moment on who I'm stuck in a room with. It's what life is. It's a series of rooms and who we get stuck in those rooms with adds up to what our lives are."

What a beautiful bit of writing--literal yet metaphysical at the same time.  It has always been one of my favorite quotes from House. Let me provide some context: This quote comes from the episode "One day, one room." Normally, House has a patient who has an illness or disease no other doctor can figure out and it's up to him and his team to find the diagnosis--the Sherlock Holmes of medicine. But this episode takes a different turn: Eve, a patient who comes to the hospital, has just been raped. And she wants House to talk to her, to be her doctor, and to come to terms with what happened. House, who has his own demons, can't understand why she would want to talk to him, of all people.

I ponder over this quote from time to time and wonder why I like it so much. I guess if I go with the literal interpretation, it seems I've been stuck in pretty many rooms with some pretty great people--and some pretty awful people. No, I'm serious. I've been in the same room with rapists and murderers, bombers and thieves, and it isn't a comfortable feeling. But never mind the bad. I want to focus on the good.

I've been pretty down lately, and I don't know why. I guess this place has gotten to me. Small towns are wonderful in their own right, but there are drawbacks. I don't do much: I study (well, not really). I work out (kind of...lol). I read. I write. I see friends. I spend my days in my head, thinking of what to put down in my new novel, wondering if the one I've submitted will even make it past the first cut. Oh, and I have been watching Frasier like there is no tomorrow. It's not glamorous, and as my mom has said many times, this is a transition period in my life--it won't last. And here I said I was focusing on the good...come on, Matt. Get it together.

I do have a point, I promise. The other day I did something for myself that was quite powerful. Most psychologists are familiar with The "Empty Chair" technique in psychotherapy. Born from a Gestalt point of view, the client talks to an empty chair, envisioning the person with which they have an emotional conflict or problem with. This allows the client to come to some self-awareness about their own feelings towards that person, object, thing, place, whatever, in a safe environment. Yes, it doesn't have to be people. It can be objects or events such as death or divorce, parts of your own personality, fears, whatever. The goal is to have a deep, interactive conversation. You get up, switch seats, switch points of view, and carry the conversation, slowly working towards the inner conflict that seems to be bothering you.

I tried it. And in the other chair was myself. I wanted to discover the root of my problem; I wanted to know what had gotten me so down. As I started, I soon realized I was in a grieving process. I missed many things; I longed for a life that I didn't, no, couldn't have here. And do you know what it was?  I missed Valparaiso. I missed what I call home. I missed sitting in the Christopher center watching the Valporainsnow fall through the colossal square windows. I missed Grinders. Northsides (yes, and their damn cheese fries), Martinis, the professors, King Gyros, Lab with Dr. Scupham, Cell Biology, Organic Chemistry, you name it. Hell, I even missed VUPD to an extent--and that's just messed up. But do you know the worst of it? I missed spending time in those rooms with my closest friends, doing things with my closest friends. I missed the long talks with good friends, missed Jimmy Johns runs. I missed playing Gears of War, Halo, and FIFA with those guys. I missed bonding with them. And shit, I even missed getting mad at them (though I don't know if they would say the same to me. I was an idiot then, sorry guys). Oh and George--I even miss the Cell Biology Lab Exam from Pa Pa scups. That was the worst test of my life. Ever.

It was a blast.

 I have a different connection now with the people here--and that isn't a bad thing, because of course, at some point, we all have to move on and go forward, but I don't think what I was/am experiencing is necessarily a return to the past, but rather, a movement forward to where I find something just as meaningful. People tend to spend too much time recreating the past and I'm not about to. I miss those guys--that experience--every day, but I'm not kidding myself: they are moving forward, and so am I. We still talk, but they, I think, are trying to do just what I'm trying to do: Find what we had while still moving forward. It's not easy....

So yes, rooms. That is what life is--a god damn series of rooms. And I thank God every day I happen to get stuck into a room with them more times than I can remember. Oh, don't worry, boys: I'll be visiting and there is always another trip like Vegas--oh and weddings, but you and I both know it can't be the same...and I don't think that's necessarily a bad thing.

Rooms. It makes you think about the future doesn't it? Who are you gonna get stuck in a room with next? It could be anybody. It could be that someone special. It could be your own mother, which I haven't decided yet if that is a good or a bad thing. It could be Ted Bundy--ha, kidding, but seriously...watch out for that shit. I don't know what the future holds, but I do know that I'd like to be in a room with those guys again someday, and maybe more than just one time, or a few times.

So here's to old friends and rooms. Miss ya fellas.

Cheers,

--Matt