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We walk the same line.
Last night I stood on the train platform talking to myself incessantly because of a lack of headphones or book or magazine, and at one point as the train finally approached, I said to myself, "....besides you have lots more time, so stop feeling so desperate in your need for immediacy" and I answered back "yes, you're right.....unless I happen to trip on the platform as I'm walking and fall into the path of this moving train." I then of course preceded to freak myself the fck out because I was scared I'd just had a premonition of my own death and I wasn't quite ready for such an occurence. I turned my back to the oncoming train and leaned against a pole in the middle, trying to regain balance that really hadn't been lost. I didn't move until the train stopped and the doors opened, and I knew any tripping and falling would just end with me on the floor of the car with a possible concussion, not an electrocution or being crushed.
I was the only person on the train for the whole ride. About halfway home I laughed about my ridiculous overreactions on numerous fronts.
I used to get so bitter towards reality. I'd get into these situations where I take a break from my everyday life and vaction in an alternate universe and then something snaps me back to the so-called daily grind and I'd be so angry. So mad at myself and situations I can't change or control. My heart would hurt and I'd fume and sometimes cry.
But not so much anymore. These are the times that I think mark passage into being an adult, though frankly I know plenty of "adults" who aren't so together, so it's more a mark of becoming that self-actualized person I envisioned in high school psychology class when I learned about Maslow's pyramid.
These vacations are just as real and those realities are just as temporal and malleable as the time away. I'm blurring the boundaries between what's my boring "real-life" and what's self-indulgent, self-discovering fun and excitement -- all of it is reality. It's all real. It's all tangible. It's all me and life and all and I'm not going to wake up one day and find it's all been a dream. At least I hope not. It does make for a fabulous dream.
My body aches in weird places right now -- for the past five days I've spend a large amount of time obsessing about the new apartment. I mean, it's the same apartment but part of me feels the need to rename it. It feels new, or at least different. At least, the rooms I've redone, namely my bedroom, the living room and the bathroom. The kitchen is halfway there, just mostly in need of some trash removal and a mopping. There's still MelRo's belongings in common areas but they'll be moved soon enough and I don't feel as compelled to drag them away myself.
Last night I lay in bed listening to Sophie chew satisfyingly on a piece of rawhide by my feet, and for a moment I thought "who's room is this? I don't recognize it" but I looked around and realized it's mine of course. Sure, there are moments of guilt and fear and sadness and nostalgia and loneliness mixed in at various levels at various times, for the most part I feel like I've constructed a nice comfortable....temporary home. Which is a big thing for me. An old-version of me would have just lived in a half-home state for the next few months, since I'm not planning on renewing the lease. No matter how reasonable the rent, how convenient the location, how not-looking-forward-to-moving I feel, I can't do it. It would be wrong on so many levels. Besides, I can't afford to live there alone and don't know if I'm ready for any sort of roommate in any incarnation.
Part of my domestic happiness is a result of a seven-hour "adventure" at IKEA with Mistress Minax. I spent lots of money I don't technically have, though my tax refund did come through the next day which almost covered my total bill. And I bought mostly necessity items, like dish towels and sheets and a nightstand and a lamp and mirrors and a rug.....and the pillow of my dreams. My one completely indulgent not-super-cheap purchase was a huge overstuffed pillow with a soft luxurious velvet cover. It's not the exact same pillow that Myles is loving on in this picture, but I still imagined him while I caressed the pillow while walking through the aisles making decisions about what color sheets go best with purple and green. I also clutched the pillow on the drive home while freaking out about the inordinate amount of time spent in the suburbs and cancelled plans with friends and bounced checks that will occur later this week. This pillow will soon be my Linus blanket, I'm sure.
I should also note that I had a fabulous lunch and conversation with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
vfc on Saturday, and getting high and doing math word problems might be my new favorite occasional pastime.
And to wrap-up, a summary anecdote: Last week I walked into Ace Hardware and was surprised to hear the strains of "Bootylicious" playing in the store. I thought it was a good sign I'd find what I wanted (don't remember what it is now). Seconds later I realized it was not the Children of Destiny playing, but Edge of Seventeen, the original Ms. Nicks song they sampled. I was deeply ashamed/bemused with myself.
It's kind of like that.
I was the only person on the train for the whole ride. About halfway home I laughed about my ridiculous overreactions on numerous fronts.
I used to get so bitter towards reality. I'd get into these situations where I take a break from my everyday life and vaction in an alternate universe and then something snaps me back to the so-called daily grind and I'd be so angry. So mad at myself and situations I can't change or control. My heart would hurt and I'd fume and sometimes cry.
But not so much anymore. These are the times that I think mark passage into being an adult, though frankly I know plenty of "adults" who aren't so together, so it's more a mark of becoming that self-actualized person I envisioned in high school psychology class when I learned about Maslow's pyramid.
These vacations are just as real and those realities are just as temporal and malleable as the time away. I'm blurring the boundaries between what's my boring "real-life" and what's self-indulgent, self-discovering fun and excitement -- all of it is reality. It's all real. It's all tangible. It's all me and life and all and I'm not going to wake up one day and find it's all been a dream. At least I hope not. It does make for a fabulous dream.
My body aches in weird places right now -- for the past five days I've spend a large amount of time obsessing about the new apartment. I mean, it's the same apartment but part of me feels the need to rename it. It feels new, or at least different. At least, the rooms I've redone, namely my bedroom, the living room and the bathroom. The kitchen is halfway there, just mostly in need of some trash removal and a mopping. There's still MelRo's belongings in common areas but they'll be moved soon enough and I don't feel as compelled to drag them away myself.
Last night I lay in bed listening to Sophie chew satisfyingly on a piece of rawhide by my feet, and for a moment I thought "who's room is this? I don't recognize it" but I looked around and realized it's mine of course. Sure, there are moments of guilt and fear and sadness and nostalgia and loneliness mixed in at various levels at various times, for the most part I feel like I've constructed a nice comfortable....temporary home. Which is a big thing for me. An old-version of me would have just lived in a half-home state for the next few months, since I'm not planning on renewing the lease. No matter how reasonable the rent, how convenient the location, how not-looking-forward-to-moving I feel, I can't do it. It would be wrong on so many levels. Besides, I can't afford to live there alone and don't know if I'm ready for any sort of roommate in any incarnation.
Part of my domestic happiness is a result of a seven-hour "adventure" at IKEA with Mistress Minax. I spent lots of money I don't technically have, though my tax refund did come through the next day which almost covered my total bill. And I bought mostly necessity items, like dish towels and sheets and a nightstand and a lamp and mirrors and a rug.....and the pillow of my dreams. My one completely indulgent not-super-cheap purchase was a huge overstuffed pillow with a soft luxurious velvet cover. It's not the exact same pillow that Myles is loving on in this picture, but I still imagined him while I caressed the pillow while walking through the aisles making decisions about what color sheets go best with purple and green. I also clutched the pillow on the drive home while freaking out about the inordinate amount of time spent in the suburbs and cancelled plans with friends and bounced checks that will occur later this week. This pillow will soon be my Linus blanket, I'm sure.
I should also note that I had a fabulous lunch and conversation with
vfc on Saturday, and getting high and doing math word problems might be my new favorite occasional pastime.And to wrap-up, a summary anecdote: Last week I walked into Ace Hardware and was surprised to hear the strains of "Bootylicious" playing in the store. I thought it was a good sign I'd find what I wanted (don't remember what it is now). Seconds later I realized it was not the Children of Destiny playing, but Edge of Seventeen, the original Ms. Nicks song they sampled. I was deeply ashamed/bemused with myself.
It's kind of like that.