more like a stranger

being here is weird, seeing photos of me at various ages everywhere, it's like living all these moments from my past simultaneously. and many of them are not so good, just awkwardly trying to be someone else mostly. i wonder if everyone spends so much time just trying to be someone else. i want to tell those young captive versions of me: nothing is wrong with you. stop trying to be somethingorother and just BE. but oh god, honey, we have to talk about the sweater vests...

(my mother dressed me until i was in college, that's my excuse and i'm stickin' to it)

this disorientation hasn't really happened to me before, i'm not sure why it is now. maybe i'm spending more time alone here, or maybe all the craziness everyone is going through. or all the craziness i went through at home and now i have a bit of safe remove from all that. i don't know. i think too much. but i miss my home and my friends and my cozy little cottage and my life. i miss bart and ac transit and that sunny hill outside of kroeber hall, and that one particular bench i would sit on before class, under the tree, with leaves and flowers threatening to surround and sometimes will coming to sit by me there until it was time to go inside. and i miss foggy drippy mornings (really) and my bed oh god my perfect bed, and my coffeeshop. i miss my ibook and my guitar and my vine, and how the grapefruits from the tree outside hit the ground with thumpy plops, and how the raccoons crawl on my roof in the nighttime and i can see their bandit faces peeking in the skylights if it's dark inside.

there are good things here, too. today i did nothing productive. i took a very long and hot shower with decadent amounts of soapy soap and steamy steam. i went to lunch with my mom. wrestled on the floor with the dog. scratched my mosquito bites. made dinner for my family. stayed up after everyone else went to sleep, watching dvd bonus features. it is 1.31a central time, and it finally feels like vacation, and things are good, and also i can't wait to go home. to california-where-things-are-normal. to a complete lack of photographic sweater vest evidence.

(that can be our little secret, right?)