*Home Sweet Home?*
You know its something when I'm home and blogging. Generally, the tactic of pouring my heart out to a computer for all to see is something that I seem to have gotten over; but there are some points where you run into a wall and there is nothing else to do.
So here I am, alone, sitting in Bakersfield, watching endless episodes of Smallville (don't get me wrong, everyone is incredibly pretty, but this is the fourth season in two weeks) and hoping that the messages I've left will be returned. It's kind of rediculous when you are consistantly promised to be called later and that promise is miraculously forgotten - repeatedly. It would be one thing if I'd never called at all, if I'd never tried to do anything in the first place; however, it is so crushingly painful when your friends have more important things to do than to call you back and reschedule.
I run into these same problems in Camarillo. The perk of being out there, though, is an escape southbound on the 101. Out there I get to run away from the people who classify themselves as better than me; I get to do the whole dance of pretending like I don't care that people that used to be my friends could care less about me.....but in Bakersfield, I have no escape. I can't pretend that I am okay when people who I truly care about stop calling me. All that's left is to run around the neighborhood (risking lung cancer), suffer from insomnia, and whine a little through my facebook status.
But there is nothing I can do to change all this. It is in my hands to stick it out, suck it up, and finish whatever time I have left here. This challenge is nothing compared to my moving away to school, not knowing a single person, and having to forge an existance. It's hard, I know that first hand, but it's tolerable - it even is liberating. I got to start over and could be whoever I wanted to be. Moving home is a more sour existance because it reverts me back to who I always was, but that is something I have had to learn to live with. It takes a strength of character (which I am fortunate to have learned) and a countdown callendar....
I can't exactly be a quitter (because I don't exactly have a place to go back to), so for the moment, I guess I'll countdown the hours until it gets a little cooler so I can go running. At the very least, if no one is calling back and no plans are being made I can improve my running times, right?
Track workout tomorrow if I can yank my ass out of bed....
So here I am, alone, sitting in Bakersfield, watching endless episodes of Smallville (don't get me wrong, everyone is incredibly pretty, but this is the fourth season in two weeks) and hoping that the messages I've left will be returned. It's kind of rediculous when you are consistantly promised to be called later and that promise is miraculously forgotten - repeatedly. It would be one thing if I'd never called at all, if I'd never tried to do anything in the first place; however, it is so crushingly painful when your friends have more important things to do than to call you back and reschedule.
I run into these same problems in Camarillo. The perk of being out there, though, is an escape southbound on the 101. Out there I get to run away from the people who classify themselves as better than me; I get to do the whole dance of pretending like I don't care that people that used to be my friends could care less about me.....but in Bakersfield, I have no escape. I can't pretend that I am okay when people who I truly care about stop calling me. All that's left is to run around the neighborhood (risking lung cancer), suffer from insomnia, and whine a little through my facebook status.
But there is nothing I can do to change all this. It is in my hands to stick it out, suck it up, and finish whatever time I have left here. This challenge is nothing compared to my moving away to school, not knowing a single person, and having to forge an existance. It's hard, I know that first hand, but it's tolerable - it even is liberating. I got to start over and could be whoever I wanted to be. Moving home is a more sour existance because it reverts me back to who I always was, but that is something I have had to learn to live with. It takes a strength of character (which I am fortunate to have learned) and a countdown callendar....
I can't exactly be a quitter (because I don't exactly have a place to go back to), so for the moment, I guess I'll countdown the hours until it gets a little cooler so I can go running. At the very least, if no one is calling back and no plans are being made I can improve my running times, right?
Track workout tomorrow if I can yank my ass out of bed....