(no subject)
My dad thinks I should move out of my room and move into the basement. It is not a mere suggestion, no no, it is an order. The place would be really cool to live in, if it was furnished, if the walls didn't leak, if it had more sunlight and if it was habitable. But, as usual, that's my problem.
I don't like the process of moving. Specifically when it is forced upon me. I don't like to change things that I don't feel necessary to change. I just got used to my room. I know it's not that big of a deal, but, but, but...
Maybe my real problem is with people ordering me around. Fucking cunts can take their "suggestions" and shove them.... a hem... anyway...
I think it upsets me because I've lived 6 years in that room. Once Summer ends, it will be gone. I won't really be able to call this house, my home. And see, the concept of moving into a dorm does not bother me. Because it is my choice. It will take some getting used to but I have no problem with it. In fact, it seems like an interesting experience. But I think it'd be nice to have a place that I can call a home. It's kind of like a cat. I need my space. The space I am used to, that I am comfortable with, that I can lean back on. The basement, is not my space. Even if I move down there, it won't be my space because that's where my dad hangs out with his friends. It is not a bed room. All there is is another couch to crash on over a weekend or over break. And that's upsetting. That the one place that I would go for comfort, my living space, would be torn up before my feet, would leave me suspended in space confused and feeling like there I have no place to go or call my own.
It's kind of like how it upsets me that I can't call Russia my home and I can't call America my home. It's kind of like floating around on a raft in the middle of the ocean. It's kind of like hopelessness.
And there's no point in explaining this to my parentals, because what is it to them? And what is it to me? An emotional problem? We already have our arms up in air, crying out who cares before I haveve even voiced anything of the sort.
But here's the upside, the most important part:
I kind of feel like this is a good thing. No matter how angry or upset it makes me, it is better preparing me for this next phase of my life. Where the concept of home is redefined. And the concept of "mine" is redefined. I own nothing. My room is nothing but a material representation of reality. I do not need material objects to keep me grounded, my self should be sufficent as is. And if I keep that in mind, I think everything will be just fine. I mean, it's just life, after all.
So in conclusion I must go with the flow.
It's time to get rid of stuff and start making plans to make that basement a bit more comfortable. This will probably be a whole lot of fun. This means I get to go furniture shopping/dumpster diving/garage saling?. Plus, it's fun to be my parents' personal interior designer. Even though they don't listen.
Actually, I have a lot of things I need to do this summer. Like apply for citizenship.
I'm taking a Jewlry making class. I'm also in charge of planning vacations to exotic lands. Mexico, Canada, Indiana? I was trying to go for Brazil/Argentina, but my parents passports are due to expire soon, so that makes me frown.
Well anyway. I need to finish these IB tributes before it gets too late. But after House.