in my younger years i can remember absolutely hating friday nights. my family did not do anything at all. once the sun went down, everything else turned off (especially our minds) if we were lucky, my siblings and i would get to watch a veggitales movie. but most of the night was spent waiting until it was okay to go to sleep. but then saturday night, it was okay to do whatever we wanted... my sundays were amazing, but when thursday came, i was so depressed... i never really understood why people enjoyed the weekend. but my family became more and more liberal over the next couple of years. sixth grade brought about instant messaging for me... and so i would log onto the computer and try to have a conversation with someone. 7th and 8th grade brought about the salvation of a youth group. my brother and i would embark with dad over to melissa's house and stay until 10 or 11 and i wouldn't feel like my night was wasted. then bma came and having vespers really took the kick out of everything. on homeleaves though, it was back to the same old routine... and i used to go to jay leno's website and read all of the headlines that he had showed, the one's that i had missed while at school, and of course i would myspace... haha. but i was just sitting here, thinking how pathetic that all really is... tonight, is the friday night of my last bma homeleave, and i was just thinking about all of the other one's...and how tomorrow i will probably not go to church, because i do not enjoy going. so i will sleep in and say goodbye to my family, the rest of the day will probably be spent doing something adventurous, then the next day is sunday which means hopefully waking up in time to go to the flea market, and making sure that everything is packed so that i can go back to bma, and finish out the rest of my 5 weeks. it's all rather upsetting at this point...
i went biking today. twice, actually. (i took my sister around the block) instead of doing the 14 mile loop (which is more than double what i did yesterday) i cut it up. baby steps right? i went on a 10 mile loop. i had not realized, because i wasn't really paying attention, that one of the roads that i was biking on, is one of the major roads in the area. so i was on the road with huge cars and trucks going way faster than i was comfortable with. it was an eye opener. mostly i think, because i was alone. it made me realize, just how fragile i really am. i kept thinking about all of the worst case scenarios. what would happen if a bug hit me in the eye and i swerved a little too far and BAM! i'm gone. i couldn't help imagining what it would feel like to get hit by a car/truck/large vehicle. every time they passed me, i thought about it. how close do i need to get. how close CAN i get. what happens if i stick out my hand. i'm not wearing a helmet. will it hurt. i don't have my phone on me, it would take them a while to find out.
i painted today, and by painted i mean, i found six small tubes of water based paints in my room that i have been meaning to use, so i emptied them all into the lid of a shoebox and mixed them all together. there is a fairly interesting color pattern in it.. it's drying right now because there is so much of it, i think i'm going to keep it. i found them while i was cleaning out my room. it happens every once in a while... i'd say about once a month, around homeleaves. i come back into my room and see all of those things, just sitting there, so i get a trash bag, and go through everything that i own, throwing things out... just getting rid of them. it's an interesting experience. i remember that i once must have cared so much about whatever it is that i'm getting rid of. i must have, if i have kept it for so long. but now, i don't feel anything for it at all, and i need to get it out of my room. all of these things that i used to love, i absolutely cannot stand. they are contaminating my silly little existence. it's all very strange because actually, i am a very sentimental person. i cannot bear to throw something away if someone gave it to me, or if it has some memory attached to it. so where are these memories from all of these things i am getting rid of? is there a point when my memories won't mean anything to me anymore? i'm scared that eventually my soul will dry up.
my parents are hesitant to get rid of my furniture. it's the one thing that needs to go, but there is no place for it. i want it out. the dresser, the desk, that book case, the bed frame. i want them all out of here. i had this vision for my room. to paint the walls a deep earthy color, have my mattress on the floor in the corner/maybe middle of the room. and i want to install some shelves along the one wall for books/other shelfable objects... and i want everything else to be gone. but they are reluctant because A) they are unsure of when they will be able to replace the furniture B) they think that i'll change my mind after a week or so. which i can understand, but having all of this junk in my room depresses me so much... i don't think i can even explain it... it weighs on me.
there are things that are important to me, i will keep them.
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