After a long awaited... 2, 3? weeks, I hope to be going "home" on Thursday next. It's odd to say home about a place where I have nothing but stuff, and a computer. A place where I sit in frozen seclusion, until someone else chooses that I should do something other than just that. A place that I detest due to the constancy of the climate in both high seasons. A place where I have absolutely no friends that I can call my OWN (who at least have the time to acknowledge me. Yes, I understand Cho.) This train of thought causes me to think of my exact reasons for going there at all. What are they? I am supposed to have work; but I don't get paid. I am supposed to be working on an album; but I am at my fathers disposal of time for that one, and has thus far, not happened. There's got to be a good reason. In the beginning, I was only going until I was finished with my portfolio, and had applied to grad school. I've done that now. Why do I not choose to come back. For the promise of work? For the constant consistency of seclusion? If I am able to anticipate that, it subtracts disappointment. But do I really desire it? No. I suppose it's as I stated in my short bio thingy. I choose to run away from what is either good for my, or comfortable. I do this, I think, to keep it from changing on myself without my personal permission. I jump the gun on it. I take the opportunity away from others to let me down. I let myself down instead and early. that's just crazy. I must have mush for a brain. Stupid Girl!
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