It's cold in this house. I'm sitting at a chair in my "dining room" with a blanket wrapped around me, and for those of you who may be wonering (since the timestamp isn't quite accurate for these entries), it's two in the morning. I came home early to deal with my family--to deal with what financial matters regarding school and my apartment and the like. But we've barely talked about that. It took maybe 30 minutes to sort everything out and for them to tell me that they weren't going to do anything like that at all. So now I'm wondering why I had to leave Pittsburgh so urgently. I'm wondering why they made it seem like they needed me to be here and why I had to miss a very important camp weekend. Things are very weird here. My parents are acting like nothing has changed at all, which I suppose is good in some ways. Perhaps that means they will realize that nothing about me is going to change at all through this process. But I have this horrible, wrenching fear that they are just ignoring everything that is happening. They are pretending that our conversations over this past month have not even happened, and there have been no more questions asked, nothing even hinted at. I worry so much about this. I think it only adds to how I feel when I am at home most of the time. I'm stuck in a time warp in this place. I come home, and most things are exactly the same. My parents redid the living room, but it's still the same place. It looks a little different, but not that much now that I think about it. The furniture is new, but it is all laid out in the same way. I always feel terribly lonely in this place. I sort of felt that way the last year or year and a half that I lived here anyway. I never wanted to be in my own house. There was nothing that interested me here, and somtimes I just felt uncomfortable. But I'm not really uncomfortable now. It's a feeling that I can't quite place yet. It's definitely feeling more like home than it has in the past, and that might have something to do with how it felt to come home with both my parents and to see my mom for the first time in months, after she had refused to speak with me for so long. In a way, it's nice to know that things can be okay, but at the same time, I want things to be okay for real. I don't want to have to pretend. I want them to at least acknowledge that some things will be different or discuss them with me or something. I want them to give a crap. I want them to care about me enough to be interested. I hate feeling like I'm the kid that's just not as important, when so many actions of theirs indicate that it's actually true. I'm not going to go into that right now because that would be really depressing. And maybe they don't even realize what they are doing. I remember being given a particular excuse in the past that Darrell just needs more attention and more guidance/watching over or whatever because we know you'll be fine no matter what. I can understand this in ways, but that doesn't mean I haven't felt abandoned at times. And that doesn't explain preferential treatment when we're both dealing with pretty serious situations. And to be honest, his is way more stable than mine right now. They knew Cinci was the senior game too. I mean, it sucks that I missed it, but they were visiting my brother that day. They could have done it any day, really. They see him every week without fail. They haven't come to a game of mine in 2 years. I really don't know what that says. Maybe nothing. But a lot of the time, it's not what you mean that matters. People never really see what you mean, only what you do. And that's all we have to judge by. Can you blame someone in light of that? Can you really blame people for misconstruing situations every now and then? And perhaps there are some people who get particularly offended by this because they try to project a much nobler image than they truly embody. People do shit, pretending to have good intentions. We all do that from time to time, but don't we all get a little ticked or unnerved when someone finds us out? I really don't know why brought that up right now, and very few people know what I mean anyway since I actually do have specific instances in mind, but I think it's better that I keep those to myself. Some things just aren't worth it anymore.
I don't know. What the hell was I trying to talk about? This place. Or maybe another place. You know what's great about gyms? No matter where you go, they are pretty much the same, and pretty much the same dynamic exists in every gym. You don't have to worry about feeling the place out as much as you do any other place. You know how things work, and you know how you are supposed to fit into that environment. It's no surprise why I'm attracted to them or why I feel so comfortable when I'm working out. And it's really not about anybody else. You're in your own world when you're working out, which is good somtimes and not others. You can sometimes bring another person into that world, but each group of people even is a little universe. Nothing else that anyone does really matters. It's an escape. I obviously went to the gym here today and felt more okay there than I have this whole time I've been here. But it's not that I'm not okay at the moment. I'm just less so, comparatively. I had a feeling I would be rambling a lot tonight.
Other things. I rode a train for the first time in my life, and I am fairly confident that I am never riding a bus again. Three times as much leg room, outlets, and a dining car. And a view of snow falling all the way east. I didn't get those feelings of panic in my stomach that time. Bus rides usually cause me a lot of distress, probably from being so close to random people. I'm sure there are other reasons as well.
I suppose that I just don't like feeling like things haven't changed at all. I don't like feeling the same as I did when I was 16 in this house. I want to know that my life is different and better. I want to know that we all aren't stuck like that. Sometimes there are hints that we have all grown, but a lot of the time, at least here, it feels like nothing has changed, as I said. I mean, sometimes that's nice. Nostalgic perhaps. But not about the important things. Maybe change isn't the right word in that case. Maybe evolve?
I read Maniac Magee for the first time in ten years. I think I like it even more now. And I think I realize more than ever how important that book is for kids to understand. It's hard to explain how much of an impact a book like that has if you haven't read it--if you didn't read it back when you were just about to enter middle school or a little earlier. The funniest thing is that, when I first read the book, it seemed like way more time had passed in the story. It seemed like several years from the start of the book to the end, but obviously that's not the case. Weird shit.
I don't even know if I have anything else that's meaningful to write about. I want to have something meaningful. I want to throw some brilliant shit out there, but I have nothing. This place doesn't do much for creativity. It's a black hole. As my father and I were driving up the road that leads to my house--the main road in Edwardsville that turns onto my street--I took in the view of the dirty sidewalks and buildings alongside, almost as grey as the few souls hobbling about in the cold--and I just threw my arms down into the seat and said, "This really is the town that God forgot about."
I love how I can feel tired one minute and wide awake the next. I make no sense. I should probably sleep, but I don't get the point. Not now. I have nothing that I really need to do at all. It's weird. It's not even that I could do anything. Too cold to walk anywhere, and I can't drive. I'm kind of stranded. I hate that. That's what I hate most. Even if there is nothing to get away from, knowing that you can get away is important. It lets you know that you are in control of the situation in some way. And I am clearly not in control of my situation right now, and it is a situation in which something bad may happen at any moment, and I know that I will not be able to get away from it no matter how much I want to. I tried to exercise control by taking that train home instead of waiting until Sunday when things could have been way worse, considering the conversation Friday night. But maybe coming home early was more like giving in than waiting it out. I don't know. I never know what I'm supposed to do. I just do what I think is right, and most of the time, that's what you have to do. But sometimes people are just wrong, and there's no way to know it. I know I'm not saying anything terribly profound here, but give me a break. It's like three in the morning, and my body and mind are probably a lot more tired than I believe.
I'm afraid of going to see my brother on Christmas. This will be the first time speaking to each other since my whole family found out. I have pretty bad feelings about this building up in my stomach. I almost wish something would happen while we are there because then things could just move forward. I hate purposeful stagnation when there is no point. I hate putting things off, especially when they are important. And I hate not knowing things, and there are so many things that aren't being discussed, and there are so many unknowns in the future, and no one here is helping at all with all of this stress I'm dealing with. They act like this is easy for me. And they think that pretending that my life isn't happening is going to make it easier on me? It's insane. I don't understand how people can operate this way. I don't understand how you could live your life like this, ignoring all of the things that really matter and obsessing over stupid little things you hear on TV and can't do anything about. And there's no way to make people see what's really important. Granted, not everyone finds the same things important, but I assume that there are certain univerals, more or less. Like family. And things happening to immediate family members. But maybe I'm wrong. It's amazing that my brain has survived all of this. And yeah, it is kind of amazing that I came out of this place. Maybe I'm not as much of a fuck up as people thought I was going to be. As a lot of people still say or think I am. I mean, most people think I'm a complete moron when they meet me, which is normally fine, but sometimes I just wish I could get a little bit of respect for my intelligence. Whatever. I hate being a little bitch and being all pompous about being smart. Everybody's smart, pretty much. Everyone's good at something. Yes, these are things to be proud of and to be celebrated, but you don't have to go shoving your 4.0 in people's faces when there's just no reason to. I'd rather be known for being an awesome person who is there for his friends than for being smart. That doesn't mean that I don't value my intelligence. It's also an essential part of who I am. It's just that I don't really like to brag about any quality of mine. I think just doing the things shows way more. It's really hard to explain this without sounding like an arrogant douchebag. But I don't intend to, and most of the people that I know aren't arrogant bastards. I just know that they are out there, and I'm probably just reiterating things that people already know or feel about them. I'm sure a lot of what people perceive actually comes from the fact that I say stupid shit because sometimes it's really funny.
This might be the most ridiculously random post yet.
My chest hurts again in that same spot. I wonder if I should be worried.
I guess things are winding down. Either that or my brain has giving up on letting me get its thoughts out.
I need random topics to write about. Anything really. Could be something you don't even think people should be able to write about. It might be fun. Or I might fail, and it would still be funny. Serious shit is acceptable. Absurd things are always welcome and greatly appreciated. No politics. Can't stand that shit.
I have to close with a quote. It was just too perfect:

"Inside his house, a kid gets one name, but on the other side of the door, it's whatever the rest of the world wants to call him."