Stockholm Syndrome

The creepiest thing about being at home is that it is so comfortable, effortless and easy that it almost lulls you into saying, "It's nice here..." I imagine this is what it feels like to become institutionalized, like in a mental ward, or possibly on death row. So angst-free when I'm not fighting with the guards, no pesky planning of the day ahead since it's all pre-regimented for me, lots of sleep. No uncertainties. Relatively little responsibility. Just be on your best behavior. Maybe freedom is over-rated.

I mean you wake up late, you don't go to work, people feed you or at least provide the means by which you can feed yourself, it's a lovely sunny, warm day (not stinking, humid and hot), you get to drive a car with the wind in your hair and the stereo turned up, your only "job" is to go through all your old crap (which for me mostly means my intensely OCD mother goes through everything and I sit and watch), and then you go to sleep in probably the most comfortable bed in christendom (I don't know why or how this mattress is so comfortable, I think we got it at costco, but it is so delicious that whenever I lay down my back goes, "ahhhhh!").

Ok so not really like prison. But with the same banal brainless sort of consistency that pleases simple beings like infants, the recently comatose, or, as in my case, the incredibly high strung.

If it wasn't for all the people I miss and all the fun I am missing I think I might be reluctant to go back early! Isn't that sick?! Because actually, I totally hate it here!! It just gets into you like some sort of zombie disease. Or the rage virus, only it's not rage it's just soul-sucking boredom.

I think what is making me feel so, you know, I-long-for-the-good-old-days-that-never
-really-existed, is all the uncertainty and scary broke-ness that I'm heading back to. Plus my lack of acting prospects on the horizon is a little depressing. I am doing a reading on monday though, so I really shouldn't complain.

And I have to get a job that I hate. I hate having a job that I hate! But all the jobs I don't hate, don't pay! And I need a job that pays. Like a lot. So I guess I'll be entering data for $15 an hour or something. Luckily I have enough pleasant distractions in my life to subdue the suicidal tendencies I'm sure that would drive any person to - like my 4th of july plans. Are you sitting down?

I'm meeting The Family! And by The Family, I don't mean mine of course. That would not be a cause for excitement, only self-mutilation. I mean the boyfriend's! I know, big step. I have fantasies of baking a gourmet home-made meyer lemon summer fruit tart to impress my hosts - so my mere presence won't be a let down - but I have a feeling it will be more like buying a gourmet home-made meyer lemon fruit tart to impress my hosts. But hey, that means I frequent bakeries - and that means I don't count carbs - and that means I'm not an entirely nervous wreck. And that is pretty impressive, for a New Yorker.

I will post soon with details about Meg's Visit and The Most Beautiful Wedding Ever but that delicious bed is a-calling!