This weekend was tough. I don't know why, but it was. It was silly of me to think that all this would be easy.
Home while refreshing is already becoming stifling. My family, though lovely, leads a very different lifestyle than I do. My mum still views me as the little girl who rarely showered, thought it would be "neat" to work at Wal-Mart, and was infinitely unaware of her surroundings. It's a constant battle to get her to believe otherwise, and don't even get me started on my diet. Bless my dad's soul every single day around dinner time he says something along the lines of, "well since you don't eat meat I'll make some chicken instead of those steaks. You eat chicken right?" I don't know how many times I've heard my mother pipe in, "Well you used to like it."
I also used to want to be fairy scientist and drink copious amounts of restaurant creamer.
Home is weird, but not all bad. I miss my friends a whole whole lot (why does everyone have to be so far away??). But the nature here makes it all worth it. Most days I feel as though I'm going to jump right out of my skin, but all I have to do is step outside walk (or bike) down the path and my mood lightens. Yesterday I saw a big fat beaver. We noticed each other at the same time. I stopped in my tracks and we just stared each other down. I swear that bastard smiled at me, and then went on arranging sticks. It was pretty magnificent.
On the way of everything else: I gave out my connection code. As soon as I did I wanted to ask for it back. What can I say I'm going through an anti-social bout. Or well yeah a bout of bruised organs. Ha ha oh well. I never pick up my phone anyway. I like trees better than boys. Except for tall beans I'm so damn glad we reconnected in our platitude. I picked up my guitar for the first time basically since I received it as a gift ... my first and third fingers throb with the intensity of a million hot pokers, but I can play three whole songs (wahooo). What would I do without music in all its glorious forms?
One of my most beloved writer's, John Updike, once said, "Once you begin a gesture it is fatal not to go through with it."
I just realized I've only been home for not even two full weeks. It flew by, but I was certain it had been longer. So it didn't really fly by. Time has got me fucked.