It's been an odd break.
I've been home for almost three weeks and I still feel like I haven't seen nearly as many people as I had hoped. Ted is out at Tribeca with his sisters & co. and I just slept through one of my best friends birthday parties. I just feel so tired all the time. It may have something to do with the fact that i'm quite certain I burned the top layer of my skin while---in a moment of vanity---going tanning.
Lately I've had such an overpowering sense of displacement. I feel like I am constantly moving here and there and today arrived at the realizationt that I have called five different places home in the last 12 months. It's such an odd feeling to constantly extend beyond the paramaters of friends and cities, recreate yourself, replace what's old with the new. Sometimes it just feels so counter-productive; the futility of trying to fix what isn't broken. Throughout the entire time I was in England I wondered if I really missed people or I was just trying to miss them---seems like the ethical thing to do. What kind of human doesn't know how to long for familiarity? I questioned the motives behind my move: what was I getting away from? I exhausted all avenues trying to decide whether or not I should be in one place or another. Sometimes I just wish I could put my mind to sleep. I'm like a hampster on one of those fucking wheels at night: think think thinking but never getting anywhere. My mind is noctournal, even in sleep. I can go through a whole day and think about the most minimal things: zit on chin, pretty girl, creepy boy, pizza for supper. However, as soon as, hmm, 12 a.m. hits my brain goes into over-drive and I start contemplating the rudiments of philosophy or how space can REALLY go forever or the absurdity of loving two people at once.
Anyways, I am in bubble mode, neither awake nor asleep. So I will put my mind to bed and wake up in a dream. I will probably delete this nonsense in the morning and wonder why I write exactly how I think: broken, interrupted, non senseical and childishly.
I've been home for almost three weeks and I still feel like I haven't seen nearly as many people as I had hoped. Ted is out at Tribeca with his sisters & co. and I just slept through one of my best friends birthday parties. I just feel so tired all the time. It may have something to do with the fact that i'm quite certain I burned the top layer of my skin while---in a moment of vanity---going tanning.
Lately I've had such an overpowering sense of displacement. I feel like I am constantly moving here and there and today arrived at the realizationt that I have called five different places home in the last 12 months. It's such an odd feeling to constantly extend beyond the paramaters of friends and cities, recreate yourself, replace what's old with the new. Sometimes it just feels so counter-productive; the futility of trying to fix what isn't broken. Throughout the entire time I was in England I wondered if I really missed people or I was just trying to miss them---seems like the ethical thing to do. What kind of human doesn't know how to long for familiarity? I questioned the motives behind my move: what was I getting away from? I exhausted all avenues trying to decide whether or not I should be in one place or another. Sometimes I just wish I could put my mind to sleep. I'm like a hampster on one of those fucking wheels at night: think think thinking but never getting anywhere. My mind is noctournal, even in sleep. I can go through a whole day and think about the most minimal things: zit on chin, pretty girl, creepy boy, pizza for supper. However, as soon as, hmm, 12 a.m. hits my brain goes into over-drive and I start contemplating the rudiments of philosophy or how space can REALLY go forever or the absurdity of loving two people at once.
Anyways, I am in bubble mode, neither awake nor asleep. So I will put my mind to bed and wake up in a dream. I will probably delete this nonsense in the morning and wonder why I write exactly how I think: broken, interrupted, non senseical and childishly.
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