Wherein I return from Spring Broke

Hello!

Man it is going on 1:30 in the morning and I have class to get to tomorrow, and I really should get a restful sleep to start off the week, but I have really felt compelled to jot my thoughts down in this thing. Ah well, it will give the sleeping pills a little while to kick in, so before I drift off into unconsciousness I will BLOG for a bit (I always felt that verb merits capitalization).

So here is the story. This is not anything profound, exciting, or creative. This is more for my own benefit as I am feeling rather blue. I just got back off of spring break, which was relaxing and uneventful, in my book both good things. At the beginning I was feeling my usual antipathy towards the inevitable return to school. I thought about why it was, and I came to the conclusion that life back at home was slightly unreal. There are no real responsibilities, no deadlines. As per my custom I discard of my cell phone/wallet/keys as soon as I return home. They are the tools of the oppressor. They represent my independence and all the stress that follows it, I came to realize, so I try to distance myself from them. The city stands for the same thing; it is not anything about the school or the people or the classes that causes my mixed feelings. It is the forced responsibility, which would occur no matter where I am, that causes my anxiety. Home is an escape from it. But as mother pointed out, if I were to hypothetically drop college and return home for some other path through life, there would be anxieties of a different nature. No escape, I gloomily thought.

However, as break progressed, I found my black mood lifting. I think I came to enjoy my time home for what it was: a temporary escape from reality. As the return to school loomed, I felt better than I usually do about such things. But now as I write, some of the usual dreading feeling returns. What is the cause?

It is, I think, my love for the familiar. Even if I have begin to accept that life as it currently is back home is not very realistic, it is still the life I am most familiar with. The simplest ties to it make me feel better. For instance, when I was brushing my teeth a few minutes ago, I noticed Pete had bought a new kind of toothpaste, the same kind we use at home. Something so trival made me happy. It is odd, for most of my life I thought I was a adventuresome, bold individual who thrived in unfamiliar circumstances and sought change and vitality. But I am not, really. I like comforting things, quiet things, familiar things. Maybe I should not be this way, what with being a carefree youth in the city. But, as the saying goes, "My life may suck, but it sucks exactly the way I like it!" (self-deprecating remark is mostly humorous).

What bothers me now is the question whether I am stuck like some kind of cicada, emerging from my comfortable retreats to run around in a stressful world until I am so burnt out I need another flight from it. I wish there was something that felt less routine. Maybe I will get more independent as time goes on. Of course, worries ensue that I won't, ohgodohgodohgod, what am I going to do with my life, etc. etc. etc.

Aw heck I will probably feel better in the morning. Just had to get this out of my systems. Man, using my blog to mope about my feelings. What a 13-year-old girl I am becoming.

-Daniel Emerson