everything is back in boxes, or stashed away in some part of shelby's room. it's been a crazy two and a half weeks back in chicago and i've loved most of it. i'm surprised at how much i enjoy being alone lately - from longer commutes, to going to the park, to just cooking in the apartment, with music playing. i think about how so much of my younger self was trying to be someone else, i feel like it's such a cliche though, but we all kinda go through it somehow, before we realise we don't need to be anything but ourselves. and i mean then it's the question of what the self is, which is a whole other rabbit hole to go down. but, it's been nice to leave a party when i get tired, and retreat under my sheets to watch a movie with a cup of hot honey lemon green tea, and not feel like i am missing out on anything. i wonder if fear of missing out is something that is more part of our generation that anything else, because of social media, and constantly knowing what everyone else is up to, but a more polished, curated version of other people's lives. and you just sit around feeling bummed out that maybe you're not making the most of things. i wonder if we do need to make the
most of things. sometimes, making the most of things just makes me even more tired and unable to enjoy the most of whatever it is that im trying to make the most of.
anyway, back to packing, unpacking, repacking. and moving! oh my moving. i love helping people move, but moving in myself is another thing. i'm excited though, to be placed again. and settled somewhere instead of living out of a box. though that has had it's own merits too. being able to quickly pack up and move is such a romanticised concept that i theoretically enjoy.
i wrote these thoughts a month ago:
I think about conversations to process other conversations,
I've taken so long to learn how to slowly ease into myself
I watched a show recently that says society trains us to hate ourselves because it's more profitable when we exist like that
I think about the church and how so much of the time it's antithetical to what Jesus preached
I think about joy and happiness and our pursuit of it, and wonder if suffering contributes to joy. Not that I'm saying I want to suffer or want people to suffer but I wonder if being happy 100% of the time is ideal
I think about our ideals and if they are really ideal
I think about being single forever and that it'll be okay, I'd travel and live in different parts of the world and have occasionally really good sex and have conversations both the mundane and the great
I think I just saw a bat
