no. (roses_rejoice) wrote,

East side love is living on the west end.

I feel a great personal empathy for people who want to go Home for the holidays, or Home anytime, and can't do it because they don't have the money or the vacation time off from work or it's too far away. I can't figure out why people would choose to live their lives in a place that isn't Home and that they don't particularly like. As near as I can figure, it usually has to do with a lack of jobs/decent pay in the desirable area, or with needing to move for someone else's job, which I guess are good reasons up to a point but on the other hand, if you are going to be miserable, you might better use your brain by figuring out a way to make money in the place where you truly want to be.

I used to have a hard time figuring out the "Where i want to be" part. it seems to usually be all caught up with People i love and What i am trying to do with my life at the time. On the one hand I would say I am the last person who should have ever moved away from where I grew up, but on the other hand I hate being "stuck" anywhere and I do remember how truly shitty things were there, then, and if I had stayed there I am pretty sure my Life would have been even shittiEr in innumerable ways, and I was only too aware of this even back when I was winging through big puffy clouds listening to an advance tape of "Where the Women Wear..." with tears rolling down my face because I din't want to leave. It's much better now, as I wing through big puffy clouds listening to nothing (Ipod or Discman being just one more hassley thing to muck abt with) except some song from the night before or the night before that playing in my head, and prolly not crying because I drank enough water and ate my steak and no need to cry when you'll be back next month, or next week, and have places to go and ppl to call, rather than waiting forever for calls that never come and are never Right when they do cum.

Anyway Home looks a lot different when you're Ulysses and happily return after having been all around the world, than it does when you're Penelope and spent the last 20 years sitting there looking at the same damn room and loom.

For years, anxiety attacks have tended to get me both coming and going, like heat on re-entry. I get nervous arriving. I get nervous leaving. I'd say about 50% of the time there is a good reason for feeling this way---some stressful situation I'm facing or anticipating in my personal or professional life, some great Hope or Fear that some important meeting or project will or will not Work Out. But the other half the time, nothing particularly bad, or even particularly Good, is on the event horizon, and I just have angxst out of Pavlovian habit. The only way to get rid of it seems to be to keep Coming and Going over and over until it becomes unremarkably routine, like a commute. Sort of like the only way to get over being afraid that a loved one, parent or lover, will ditch you is to check over and over that they're still there, run back to mommy's bench at the playground, cry out in the night, hold on in your sleep, call or AIM every day ad nauseam, until along about time 317 (or time 3171 depending on how nervewracked you are) you decide it's OK to go play on the swings for a while and Mommy can be depended upon to be there when you get back. Believe it or not, I didn't even need 3 times to get used to leaving Mommy when I was tiny. My parents were so all-fired dependable that it was a major shock to my system to learn that other people were NOT, and didn't always mean it when they said I'll Be There 4 You.

Oh well, to paraphrase Too Much Joy, People sucking! At least people are eminently reliable in that if someone sucks now they're highly likely to suck just as hard 15 or 20 years down the road. An oddly comforting consistency, that.

Side note: I'm a lot more interested in those who actually bother to have something positive to do with my existence on a daily basis than I am in playing some sort of catchup with people who couldn't be arsed to say hello for a year or 10. You don't do anything for me, so don't waste my time and I won't waste yourn, k?

Has no one ever made a dress out of doughnuts? I've been googling and I can't find a darn thing.
  • Post a new comment


    Comments allowed for friends only

    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded