(no subject)
So I've been living in this same apartment now for around 16 months, and just last night I realized that it still does not feel like home to me. This was never supposed to be such a permanent place for me to be. Just a place to stay for a little while and get some time away from my mother and Sebastian. Zakk and I talk several times a week about finding a bigger, somewhat nicer place to live, but continually put our plans on hold for various reasons.
I can't really complain at all about where I live. It may be small, but we manage to have room for just about anything either of us could want in our daily lives. I've got my John Stamos poster on the kitchen wall. I've still got my cabbage patch doll lamp that I've had since living at Mantana. The Wizard is finally back on prominent display since I acquired a queen size bed two weekends ago. Everything that should make this feel like my home is here, but it just doesn't fit.
I guess this is about as close to home as I'll get anytime soon. I'm comfortable here. I don't really want to be anywhere else. Now that we have the internet back, I feel the compulsion to not leave my bedroom creeping back up on me. It's a depressing feeling, but happy at the same time. I guess its hard to explain. I'm comfortable being alone. Not much as changed in this aspect of my life in the past 10 years.
I've been working at the same job now since the beginning of July. Its the only job I've ever held for any real length of time, apart from running my own business. I don't really know if that counts, as most of what I did there never really seemed like work. I'm comfortable at my job. I have a lot of alone time while driving every day, and I guess that helps me deal with a lot of stuff. I'm never put into stressful positions, and if I am, I can walk away from them without getting any shit from a boss. Its the type of job I didn't really think existed anymore. I'm treated like an actual human at work, and I enjoy waking up at 7:30 every morning and showing up there reasonably on time.
I guess in the aspect of work, I'm finally growing up.
I can't really complain at all about where I live. It may be small, but we manage to have room for just about anything either of us could want in our daily lives. I've got my John Stamos poster on the kitchen wall. I've still got my cabbage patch doll lamp that I've had since living at Mantana. The Wizard is finally back on prominent display since I acquired a queen size bed two weekends ago. Everything that should make this feel like my home is here, but it just doesn't fit.
I guess this is about as close to home as I'll get anytime soon. I'm comfortable here. I don't really want to be anywhere else. Now that we have the internet back, I feel the compulsion to not leave my bedroom creeping back up on me. It's a depressing feeling, but happy at the same time. I guess its hard to explain. I'm comfortable being alone. Not much as changed in this aspect of my life in the past 10 years.
I've been working at the same job now since the beginning of July. Its the only job I've ever held for any real length of time, apart from running my own business. I don't really know if that counts, as most of what I did there never really seemed like work. I'm comfortable at my job. I have a lot of alone time while driving every day, and I guess that helps me deal with a lot of stuff. I'm never put into stressful positions, and if I am, I can walk away from them without getting any shit from a boss. Its the type of job I didn't really think existed anymore. I'm treated like an actual human at work, and I enjoy waking up at 7:30 every morning and showing up there reasonably on time.
I guess in the aspect of work, I'm finally growing up.