"Tell me stories of myself that I can't remember; I was too drunk or too young, of that I can be sure"
Back in the day....
Things were what? More simple? Less complicated? More fun? More frivolous? More carefree? Less dramatic?
Whatevs. Who cares? Why dwell on the past when you live in the present, the here, the now, the time that affects you now.
Now I'm sitting in bed, typing, covered up and listening to my iPod with the curtains drawn to keep the sunrays out. Not because I don't like the sun and want to live like a vampire, but because I don't think I'm used to all of this sunshine that we've been getting recently. It kind of hurts my head, but I do love it. I love the blue skies, the crisp air, the changing of the seasons.
Although, the changing of the seasons, the songs on my iPod, the decent mood that I've found myself in for the past couple of days, seems to take me back in time. I travel whilst sitting in the flat, not moving, back to Virginia. I'm back in the townhouse, or driving in my car, or watching TV with Mel, or chatting with Momma in the kitchen. I'm doing all of these things, and I can hear their voices, smell the food that we're making and feel the wooden floors beneath my bare feet.
And while I am in a generally good mood, and things aren't so absolutely terrible here in the flat anymore, I'm still a wee bit homesick. Not in an "I'm depressed and feel like going back to be comforted and taken care of" way. Just an "I've been thinking about home a lot recently and remember that it wasn't so terrible" kind of way.
I decided to call home yesterday randomly to talk to Momma and Mel. It was nice. It was good to talk to them about stuff that really isn't major news, but simple Virginia updates. Momma's looking for a new job, Mel still goes to her hockey games, the weather is a bit crap, and they were going to clean the second and third floors later on that day.
"You know how I like to get the chores done before we start a new week," Momma said to me.
"Yeah, Momma. I do know how you like that."
And I got to thinking about it, like how I usually do when I'm sat around here with time on my hands, and realized I don't have to always be sad and depressed to want to go home. I can just miss them to miss them. It's allowed. Just because I moved away, doesn't mean that I can't miss how things were before I left. It's okay to think about my old schedule of waking up, getting ready, going to work, coming home, and clocking out around nine or ten in the evening, only to wake up and do it all over again the next day. And things were more simple, to a certain extent.
Even though I've only been away for about a year and a half now (with trips back every now and then), being out on your own is hard work. I know I say it again, and again, and again, but it's only because it's so goddamned true. Making your own way, making your own decisions, making your own world is fucking hard. And sometimes I wonder, how do other people do it? Is there a certain way to how most people do it that makes it a little easier? Was I completely prepared like I thought I was? Is there something I'm missing or doing wrong? Sometimes I wish I had someone here all the time to tell me, no, that's not right. Now do it this way.
I look at other people that I know, or don't know, and watch them do things. How would they do something if they were in my position? Would it be better than my way? Is everything that I'm doing just plain wrong?
Some people that I know have left uni midway through to go back home. They've left uni. Completely left. And have gone back home. Was it too much for them? Were things just that fucked up that they had to go back with the parentals that keep the fridge full of edible food, and pay all of their bills on time? Did they feel the way that I feel sometimes? Tired, tired, oh so tired of being out on my own all the time.
I think about it a little more, and know that it's just hard right now. Things will get better. They have to get better. I will make them better, because just as I know that Momma likes to do her chores on the weekends before she starts a new week, I also know that she raised me to be better, to be independent, to make good decisions and to not give up.
And I can think about that. There's nothing wrong with going back in time and remembering things like that.