The prison that is suburbia

[corsair553]

I'm on spring break right now. Which means I'm back in the Chicago suburbs. And, more importantly, back in the Chicago suburbs without a car. Which, essentially makes me a prisoner of my home. I've been commenting recently about how easy it is to fall back into the suburbian thought process, where you have to take a car everywhere. In New York, I'll walk 4 times as far and not really even think about it. The best example of this was when I was getting my dad's tire fixed at a tire place on the outskirts of Stratford Square Mall's parking lot. Well, I really wanted to go to the mall because there is an Arby's in it, and there are no Arby's in New York City (I KNOW! WTF). But even though I could see it and it would've been a short walk, I thought it was too far to walk. In NY I would've walked that in an instant. But not withstanding this, things are spread out in the suburbs and you do need a car. So I sit here during the day, trapped essentially. And at night I can go out but only after I wait for my parents to come back and then trap them in my stead. It's like my house is some Pagan god that demands sacrifice. Except...the car thing. So, to make my analogy work, let's make the car some sort of magical scepter thing used to placate the gods instead of human sacrifice. Or imprisonment.

Shut up, if daytime TV didn't suck (even cable has been particularly bad this week), I wouldn't be sitting here trying to compare my situation to some sort of Pagan religious ritual to prevent me from actually working, which I have started on today. It's not a true break if I don't bring home 3 books and not even open them. I've already opened one book and gotten started. Clearly there is something wrong with me.