May 30, 2008

This must be a choice.

I think these things happen in three's. The neck thing was folding clothes, being on bar, and The Cure. The food poisoning came from raw chicken,

questionably old chicken, and drinking a quart of milk in one go.

I like this purging thing. For the first time, I'm able to cruise through the gamut of relics that make up my tangible self and not stop to revisit each

item. Each of these things are more permanent whims, hefty volumes of cloth and pulp, each with their own cosmological weight.

I know a couple of people who purposely put themselves into a hard spot of "I have to do it this way or I completely fail." They make impossible

work-school-sleep schedules that only the inhumane have any realisitic chance of completing without getting sick, stressed out, or completed in solitude.

Living alone scares me. I can't see the advantage of living alone.

Currently I am living at home. I love the free rent & utilities, free groceries. I like seeing people I know. I like the comfort of company. But... I hate

explaining where I am or what I do because I haven't included them in anything up to now, so it opens the floor to long stories about stuff I wish they could

"get," but they (mom, dad & grandmother) don't get it, and I'm impatient. And I don't explain. So talking makes me uncomfortable.

I can't bring girls home. That requires being open about my sexual proclivities. More explanation. I wish I could say I wasn't exbarassed about the women I

date, but... I feel like I'm being myself and my parents and her parents at the same time: no, I don't see myself marrying her. I don't know my intentions

beyond today. I have no plans for my future. Just get off my back, okay?

Home, as it is now, is the place where I keep my stuff. It's 20 minutes away from any person or place I want to visit--or realistically expect any one to

visit me.