Roads less travelled
Oct. 19th, 2004 02:52 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
green_dreamsHello, wall.
Just got back from concert, walk afterwards, lots of talking to people, loud noise, beautiful lights--I'd forgotten how many people I actually know. Not a lot, maybe, not stunning amounts, but enough that the three people I hang out with on a fairly regular basis are a really small proportion of it.
I see people I haven't seen in months or years, and I fall right back into the same old habits, stuck patterns of behaviour, modes of interaction. It's easy. It's comfortable, in a way, like slouching.
I want to get out of here.
I want to pack up--hell, forget packing, stuff an essential or three into a bag and bail. Walk out the door, leave a message for someone to pick up the cats, tell John it's not him, and wham. Gone.
I want to go to London.
And I'm just realizing now that I've got as many habits and preconceptions and stuck ideas about London as I do about the people I fall into habits around. No better than here, then, and ripe for disappointment.
I'd feel bad about not finishing my job. I'd miss...
...I'm sure I'd miss something. The cats. I'd cry over cutting loose some of the people. I'd miss not knowing things and places well enough to have habits and expectations. And I won't go, at least not in this drastic amputation kind of way.
But oh Christ get me out of here it's good and known and warm and pretty safe, I guess, and I just want it gone.
Just got back from concert, walk afterwards, lots of talking to people, loud noise, beautiful lights--I'd forgotten how many people I actually know. Not a lot, maybe, not stunning amounts, but enough that the three people I hang out with on a fairly regular basis are a really small proportion of it.
I see people I haven't seen in months or years, and I fall right back into the same old habits, stuck patterns of behaviour, modes of interaction. It's easy. It's comfortable, in a way, like slouching.
I want to get out of here.
I want to pack up--hell, forget packing, stuff an essential or three into a bag and bail. Walk out the door, leave a message for someone to pick up the cats, tell John it's not him, and wham. Gone.
I want to go to London.
And I'm just realizing now that I've got as many habits and preconceptions and stuck ideas about London as I do about the people I fall into habits around. No better than here, then, and ripe for disappointment.
I'd feel bad about not finishing my job. I'd miss...
...I'm sure I'd miss something. The cats. I'd cry over cutting loose some of the people. I'd miss not knowing things and places well enough to have habits and expectations. And I won't go, at least not in this drastic amputation kind of way.
But oh Christ get me out of here it's good and known and warm and pretty safe, I guess, and I just want it gone.
