So another Christmas break has begun, and here I am at home again.
I'm having a really weird relationship with home this time around. I don't know.
For many reasons, I was very excited to come home for the holidays. I'm really hating living in residence this year. I'm sick and tired of school and was at the point where I just wanted to drop out and spend my life writing and reading and knitting and stuff. I feel like I need to step away from certain situations for a while and get my life sorted out. And I felt like it didn't really matter, because I wouldn't really miss my friends too much since I never see them anyway. I figured I'd miss the three people that I see often enough to count, and in return I get my friends at home AND my family AND my cat so obviously it's better to be here anyway, right?
But, as excited as I was to come home, in a strange way, I was kind of hoping that it wouldn't be that great. I was sort of hoping for a really disappointing holiday, so that maybe when January rolls around I'll actually be excited to go back; maybe I'll remember all of those things I love about being at school; maybe I'll appreciate it a little bit more and actually be happy to be there...
So far... I don't know. Well, the reasons I was excited to come home... yes, it's better than residence. It's QUIET, it's clean, I don't share my bathroom with gross people, I get to eat tasty tasty food; that part is definitely good.
And yeah, I don't have to do school work, but I'm not doing any of the things that I wanted to do either. I'm sleeping for upwards of 10 hours a night (no way is that healthy) and spending most of my days wasting time on the internet. I made a to do list with 24 things on it, and some of those have sublists. So far, I've accomplished 2 small things. Sigh.
As for the stepping away from certain situations... not helping there either, because they're IN MY HEAD. Or my heart, or something, but either way, putting actual physical distance between me and the other people involved is not making one bit of difference. Not one bit.
And the whole coming-home-to-more-people-than-I-was-leaving-behind thing... well, the day that I left, that was a really good day. I ate zero meals alone. I had a tea party with two new-found unexpected friends, and I saw nearly all of my friends before I left. And so far, I haven't seen anyone here, and I kind of realized how little I will probably actually see them, and well, my parents are lovely, but since they're at work all day I don't even see them that much so pretty much I've just got my cat.
Anyway, I guess I should probably just not worry about it. I'm spending most of today/tomorrow getting ready for the family Christmas party we're hosting tomorrow evening, and then maybe that will get me in the mood to be more motivated and productive on Sunday, and early next week I'm hopefully going back to the city (already, I know!) for the day to see some houses if everything works out... so maybe there'll be some improvement. I don't know.
At the very least, it's better than last year this time, when I came home to a house I had only lived in for about 3 weeks total. It is home now. Sure, I still don't know it well enough to not run into things when it's dark, and sure, my room is full of car parts at the moment, but I've come to not only accept but love those quirky little things. Like the fact that I'm currently using my brother's microphone stand as a hat rack because I have nowhere else to put stuff.
"And The Streets Are Paved With Chee-eeese!"
8 hours ago