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For The Heart With No Companion
Jul. 21st, 2002 05:39 pmI am reminded that it does me no good to exercise myself for no reason, since wired the way that I am, my mental stresses will not show themselves until I have a total physical collapse of some kind - thus, the past three days of stomach flu - food poisoning - whatever illness. Unpleasant, but more from the standpoint of physical weakness and vulnerability than anything else. It's times like these I wonder what would happen if I collapsed in a dehydrated coma - how long it would take for anyone to notice, and beyond that, to take steps to send help. But, I kept it together, as always - called the doctor, canceled necessary appointments, alerted family, and sadly, postponed my game, which was due to start tonight. Now, if I can just manage to get my homework done before Tuesday, and get back to work (One day missed, and only three weeks to the new trial date!) I can refocus and re-define.
It's also odd in a way to spend so much time at home - not home precisely, but the place I live now. It's not really much, when you think about it - I meant to clean it, as I'm expecting guests in a fortnight, but that will have to wait. I don't put posters up much, nor decorations - it's a long standing joke that over three years and as many moves, I've yet to unpack. I have comfortable and generously sized bed, which disassembles for moving, an extra futon for guests, kitchen facilities, bathing facilities, and just about enough space for all of my possessions. It is sufficient.
In any case, my terminology for home changes a lot - sometimes it's where I was born, sometimes it's where I went to school, and sometimes it's where I live now. I don't think that any of them really are homelike anymore, however, nor will they be until I choose to make one of them that in a permanent and meaningful way. I still have this-not-quite-a-fantasy of buying a house in a small town off the Mediterranean sea coast, which I could painstakingly restore and expand over the years, and which would always be home, no matter where I traveled, nor how long I stayed away. Like something out of a novel, it would be a place for weary souls to rest at last.
It's also odd in a way to spend so much time at home - not home precisely, but the place I live now. It's not really much, when you think about it - I meant to clean it, as I'm expecting guests in a fortnight, but that will have to wait. I don't put posters up much, nor decorations - it's a long standing joke that over three years and as many moves, I've yet to unpack. I have comfortable and generously sized bed, which disassembles for moving, an extra futon for guests, kitchen facilities, bathing facilities, and just about enough space for all of my possessions. It is sufficient.
In any case, my terminology for home changes a lot - sometimes it's where I was born, sometimes it's where I went to school, and sometimes it's where I live now. I don't think that any of them really are homelike anymore, however, nor will they be until I choose to make one of them that in a permanent and meaningful way. I still have this-not-quite-a-fantasy of buying a house in a small town off the Mediterranean sea coast, which I could painstakingly restore and expand over the years, and which would always be home, no matter where I traveled, nor how long I stayed away. Like something out of a novel, it would be a place for weary souls to rest at last.
