easy to be a hermit

i always thought my passionate love for writing could possibly (even eventually) cajole me into a hermit lifestyle. it could easily happen once i eventually get completely fed up with the american lifestyle. i can see myself in some makeshift cabin somewhere in maine or vermont or some random place like iceland. maybe norway. i can see myself in my proud little cabin with hoards of writer's notebooks--no computer, mind you, and nature as my toilet. i would grow long, frizzy hair with disgusting split ends and, i imagine, i would eventually wallow in my own stench, although i would probably try to attempt decent hygene.
well, i'm still in bg, ky and i am alone in my apartment. even worse, i'm alone in the entire house, which means the other 4 apartments are vacant. i went to wal mart to buy presents just so i could wrap them. i put on When Harry met Sally, made experimental pancakes (which were okay, i guess,) cheap but strong coffee, wrapped my presents, and started reading harry potter.
i even started to mentally diagram jk rowling's sentences, wondering if a complex sentence would work better if she began with the introductory phrase rather than splicing it in the middle.
i know.

anyway, it probably took 10 minutes before i realized that the movie was stuck on the scene after marie and whats-his-face's wedding, after harry and sally sleep together and their relationship gets all weird, but before the awesome scene on new year's eve where harry tells her he wants to spend the rest of his life with her. so the movie is stuck right before the resolution, i finished wrapping my presents, and i sucked down the rest of my barely-sweetened coffee (bitter is the new chocolate.) i stopped the movie, considered throwing my dvd player out of our already-cracked and terribly rickety window of the living room, and curled up with harry potter on the couch. i'm on book #5 in less than 2 weeks. (finals week was very un-tedious.)
anyway (again), i think i'll go back to the order of the phoenix, because now i've made myself type. i'm admitting my hermit-esque flaw. my goal is to finish the book by tomorrow afternoon. i'm on page 388 and haven't even reached halfway yet. rowling got a bit winded, i think, in this beast of a book. actually, i kind of like it... the books aren't so kiddish and i like the characters. i'm trying to provoke my creativity to see if i can actually think of a good fiction story.
i dunno, though. i'm a bit narcissistic and enjoy writing about myself.