Being home is like.... hmm. No easy simile. I shall try to explain.
My father, whom I love dearly, is not unlike a psychic vampire. He drains on me in such a way, but very different to the normal psychic vampire we know. He does not pull on my emotions or attentions. It doesn't give me headaches to be around him. Rather, it hurts to be in this house. This house is very strongly blocked against change, it is a very static and hinders my body and spirit. The only thing that I can do readily without feeling impending panic is stay in the house and watch TV.
For five days straight I have been staring at some electronic device designed to rob me of conscious thought. Consequently, I have watched, in very large chunks, the first three seasons of StarGate: SG-1. While I do not deny that tis has been very nice, it is time for something that is not television.
Today i attempted to finish my "I'm home" ritual (not in the spirituality sense, necessarily). My final days in Villa Park, home of tract housing and my diamond in the rough street, at a book store of some sort equipped with a coffee shop. There I grab that book I was supposed to have read oh so long ago. Purchase coffee, read, etc. Today was to be Umbero Ecco's Name of the Rose which I used to own but has since vanished. I was thwarted by Borders and Barnes and Nobles and The House (My home). At both these places I was over come with frenetic need for something, indescribable of course, but that would not let me rest.
Part, I believe, is the last throes of consumerism following Commercialmas. It was hectic, many people and long lines. There were few places to sit with coffee and indulge my closet bibliophile (well, perhaps not in the closet). So I roamed, selected a book and never looked twice. At least three times I was hit with panic about money, which tumbled to the future and grad school and Lady Fox and my grades and... on. Each time this happened I got in the car and went some where. The final time I was back home, stuffing peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in my face an hour before real dinner and the TV was on, soothing my mind.
Killing it is more apt. You don't think with the TV. There is no me during TV time alone. Atleast at school there is conversation.
So, I mentioned a song. I think I have strayed.
So there's something inside that needs to get out. When I'm here I regress to what I was in high school: a fat, lazy, depressed child. This house crushes the life I have at school. My father's stoic energy mingled with the decrepi house (and my sisters psychotic life) all hurt. That's all I can really say, I guess. i am caged while in this house.
Beloit is marginally better. Being with Lady Fox is far better than many of the good things that have happened in my life. However, there is the depression Sam brings to her house, more TV and little outside interaction. The start of a cleansing diet with her will be good, and intersting. It is a new experience that with, hopefully, bolster the healthy life I had lost on the detrius of the previous semester's explosion. I think I'll take up jogging again, in the mornings, for fresh air and exercise. Too bad I have no DDR, I miss that addiction.
So, as can be seen, I am back. This last semester has ended, I have time (too much probably). I'll be back on here reading the latest gossip from you all. I seem to have managed another very long entry. At least everyone that has me on their friend list has little chance of missing this entry. :)
I wish to say that as depressed and.or psychotic tis entry seems, I'm quite alright. I have just been reflecting upon much these last five days. I am reaching for a new place and needed a place to perch. Hugs to all that take the time to read and comment. I wish to reintegrate into the LJ community,
Comments are duely welcome.