The Architecture of Living Alone

As I made my way home the other night, I started making decisions what to have for dinner. I started last week with a small can of corned tuna, straight from a can, and a packet of crackers. Although I could easily pop another can and rip another packet, I went to a fruit stall instead, purchased two ripe mangoes, and then finished it off with Skyflakes whilst standing by the kitchen counter. Now that was an episode called dinner.

I am the Master of My Laundry.

Those years I lived with family was a delight but I would hear a scolding, even in my twenties, if I did not eat dinner at a proper time. Although I would bark back with "(I'll have dinner) LATER!", I was expected to join the nightly, albeit small, gathering around the dinner table, not because they were desperately seeking my company but rather they were desperately wanting to clean up and wash the dishes ASAP, before the Koreanovelas begin. Skipping dinner was not an option.

Now, as I am about to mark this week my fourth year of living alone, I have started to reflect if it has been worth it: from the expenses to those bouts of loneliness that resulted to a growing number of imaginary friends (kidding). But then, to counter these supposed downsides, I can always cite Demi Moore's character's insights in St. Elmo's Fire, about getting up in the middle of the night to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and that is the best PB&J sandwich she's ever had because she made that sandwich from the ingredients found in her refrigerator, which is in her kitchen, which is in her apartment.

I came across this study by Eric Klinenberg on the single-living population in the United States; features have appeared in the New York Times and The Smithsonian, among others. Basically, the study points out that the growing number of people living alone can be also attributed to the evolution of the household, and of course, the eventual realization that living alone does not equate to being alone. Klinenberg also mentions that the feasibility and the appeal of living alone is due to the fact that we are now a society set against hyperconnectivity. How can you be alone if you're connected even while mobile? You can have almost everything with just a click away: information, connection, company... and even relationships.

In an interview with The Smithsonian, Klinenberg also mentions other drivers in addition to communication; these are the rise of women in the labor force which gives them more opportunities and capabilities to go solo; urbanization, which can be seen in the rise of "convenient" real estate and the development of urban nodes which make living alone more social than isolated; and lastly, longevity, which underlines the fact that the life span has been extending thus there are instances wherein people age alone.

When I was looking for an apartment I made it a point that the space I would move in to can contain what defines my lifestyle. I had a set of requirements; my spatial priorities in addition to the basics were as follows: a space for my work desk and a space for my bookshelf. I loved to cook, hence a kitchen with sufficient cooking area was required, and I loved to watch TV, hence an area where I can place a 27inch'er would be needed. But then, space was not enough and a rental had its limits. I took up painting at some point and ended up making small paintings that I could only prop against the wall on top of my bookshelf. I had a lot of stuff hence, I am the kind who needs storage.

Oh schnapped! Photo by Mirro Macatangay.

But then there are habits, of course, and then there are preferences which go way beyond the physical space that I occupy. When I studied architecture in college, I was a sucker for programming. I liked to imagine the life of the occupants which kinda explains why I was hooked playing god on The Sims. For years my life fits comfortably in what Klinenberg enumerated: I am an example of those drivers. I am a woman of the labor force, I have lived the life of a telecommuter before it was cool (oh, how hipster, haha!), I have occupied my time staying in coffee shops, watching movies in the theaters, and wining and dining with friends. I would drive to Fort Bonifacio during those days it was not yet a construction hell to jog around midnight, and I would meet with friends whenever just to hang out. Oh yes, those times when you just want to drink in your pajamas without judgment? Well, there you go.

What's interesting is that urbanites are starting to shape what the architecture of the city should be. Manila may pale in comparison to Western cities but with the continuous waves of the graveyard working class, thanks to the ever-thriving BPOs, the city and its architecture is being designed by new generations and the social realities they live in. I grew up in the age of Sex and the City and Bridget Jones, and I won't be surprised that women of my generation, once they are able, will push for getting their own personal corners in the city which they can call their very own, with thoughts of Carrie Bradshaw's closet and Bridget Jones's bookshelves that hold publications along the lines of Why Men Marry Bitches (not me, wahahaha!).

So what is the architecture of living alone? Is form and function enough? I remember reading a publication on the architecture of hyperreality and in a way, this is also something to consider --- say, this desire to live alone may be a mere imitation of the lives of Carrie Bradshaw and Bridget Jones, or say, for this generation, that girl from Fifty Shades of Grey (eeek). Hmm. But then, this goes way beyond that: for those of us who want to emphasize spatial privacy in this age of connection and mobility, what defines our space and structure will always be related to our physical and online networks.

At the end of the day, we are still creatures who like to connect and to communicate, to reach out to a greater world even if we just view it through screens or through smart phones in the comforts of our fifteen square meter bedroom. And when we really come down to it, this definition of space and privacy and personalization... it's like making our own little world where we plot where we eat, how we eat, what time we eat. Living alone is a process of circumscribing our own reality by means personal structures. And with such function, the form must be something that has to be connected to the rest, like a planet orbiting yet connecting to the rest of the universe.