A Room of One's Own

Ilana Sheinit (more commonly known in the Love Shack as "Gingi" since people distinguish the two Ilanas by saying "Ilana m'anglia" and "Ilana hagingit") moved out today. Being 27 years old, she decided to leave the Love Shack for the peace and quiet of the giur building. She's actually not sure if she'll be happier there, since it will probably turn out to be too quiet, but she wants to give it a try. I think more powerful forces are at work, and that I'm simply not meant to live with girls named Ilana.

I'm of two minds about having my own room. On the one hand, the privacy will be lovely. No one will be in my room unless I want them to be there. I can close the door and do my own thing. I can talk to my family in the morning and not worry about waking up my roomate. I also pushed the two beds together, and now have a double bed. There are definate perks.

On the other hand, Ilana and I got along very well, and having her as my roomate gave me someone over the age of 18 to bond with. (There are a couple of girls around 21, but they're not really people to whom I feel I can open up.) She's also fairly learned and takes yiddishkeit seriously. We would lie in our beds at night and discuss Torah. No joke. (Ok, so maybe other nights we would talk about shtuyot as well. We are normal, healthy girls, after all). It was really wonderful having someone to discuss and debate with at any given moment. I think I'll have far fewer of those conversations without her living in the same room as me.

(Note on the title of this post: In college, I had to critique Virgina Woolf's "A Room of One's Own". I hated it with a passion, mostly because I found her logic incredibly flawed. I thought the title fit my post better than it fit her book.)