Cellie Roulette, Round 2: Chatterbox

Well, the wheel finally stopped on the roulette table for my new cellie.
It stopped on the Chatterbox slot, which is simultaneously good and bad.

Let's start with the bad first; I think you'll find it funny:

After several peaceful days of having the cell to myself (in blissful quiet, ahhh), I'm sharing with another person again
After more than a year of having a cellie that rarely talked, having someone who has talked more in just a scant few hours than you're used to in a six month window is unsettling
We have to learn each other's habits, to avoid stepping on the other's toes, like "Does he get up for breakfast?" or "Are they listening to something on the radio?"
We have to build trust in the other person, hope that he isn't creepy or a weirdo.

Now, the good:

After several tense days (aaaaa) of "Who am I going to get?", the question now has an answer
The wheel didn't land on some of the more undesirable traits (e.g. '"Hi, Gene" isn't a greeting' (say it out loud), 'Rat on a Wheel' (constant pacing), or 'Paranoia Plus' (the dorm is out to get me aaaaa))
My cellie actually speaks and holds conversations
We are considered compatible by the matching properties of our dorm's Unit Manager
He has a weekday job; I have Vocational Programming; we are both in the same Faith and Character Based program class -- neither of us are layabouts.

So, why the gnashing of teeth, Jayel?

It's simple! It's me.
I do not mind listening to people talk -- everyone deserves an opportunity to unburden their mind, to walk away from things that cause them suffering and strife, to have an opportunity to get a fresh perspective on what ails them. It is one of those simple things I can do to help the portion of mankind I can reach, because suffering shouldn't be the primary goal of living: peace is, and suffering interferes with, and even blocks in so many cases, peace.
But, I also enjoy my quiet time, not talking with others, not listening outside -- I need the time to rest and run my own internal defragmentation process, sort out my thoughts, turn things over to analyze and understand, figure out whether my thoughts and actions in that day were wholesome or unwholesome...
Having to hold conversations throughout the entirety of nearly every census count since getting a cellie removes that time I would have ordinarily used for that, and for completing work I must do as part of my residency in this Faith and Character Based Program.

I find that writing this post is a meditation of sorts: In a now rare, quiet lull, I compose this and reflect:

Some of what I feel is aversion to this significant change. While my previous cellie and I were not exactly the best of fits, I generally knew what to expect out of him, and he, I; so we did not clash in the sense of an altercation or argument. We also shared very few similar interests and hobbies, so we didn't really have anything to talk about in the 22 months he and I were housed together. We didn't even like the same or similar kinds of music, or genres of books: I love soulful house, chillout lounge, 90s era video game music, and science fiction books; he liked grunge, new era rock, folk, and novels of mystery and intrigue.
Now on the other hand, I know more about my current cellie and his family than I ever learned about the other guy -- I guess he feels like he can open up and not be judged by some person he does not know, which is quite welcoming to me.
But on the other side of the token, the items that caused myself and my old cellie to be so dissimilar were beneficial to me, because I could count on silence, or at least no conversational noises during our census counts. This is time that my brain can finally downshift the listening transmission -- hearing is expensive, did you know that? -- and I can mull over whatever my brain has flagged as important, like my case, or figure out how to push for compliance by the facility regarding religious materials, or the intrigue of watching the birds around here taking beaky little bites out of a flour tortilla that someone tossed over a fence into the rec yard.

What can I do about the situation?

Adjust.

I may have to just grow some tolerances again to having conversations. But also, I need to politely educate my new cellie on my expense of listening -- when he's talking, I put down just about everything so I can pick apart what he has said and confirm my understanding of what I think I heard.
I don't mind conversations, but also give me some time to mentally rest.

Overall, I could certainly have done worse for receiving a new cellie. He's a good guy who cares about his family, and is working diligently toward bettering himself. I am happy to support his goal, and simply need to work toward my new goal of accepting this change.
All things are impermanent, and I should accept this with dignity and grace. :)