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Getting home was really painful.
Driving through the neighborhoods the whole scene played out awfully in my head. Out of shape people fighting to walk short distances, young couples walking dogs, kids riding on bikes seemed like some awful illusion on what makes people happy. Everything here seems so controlled compared to New York. Houses lines up evenly with no signed of flaws. Nice paint jobs, lawns cut so fine it almost gave off a false impression that grass actually grew that way. People smiling and waving like programs welcoming new people to their small town.
It all lacked natural care; humanity. Everyone, everything looked the same. There's no sense of personality; individuality. Driving closer to my house I had this overwhelming feeling that this itself was hell. This neighborhood felt so secluded from the rest of the world. Spoiled children were so depressed, self righteous over such mundane things. No one here understands what it is that makes the world beautiful.
Walking into my house nearly made me vomit. Everything was perfect, so nicely placed. Just walking into it you'd have no idea who the hell this prison belonged to. Magazines are so nicely placed on a vacant counters. Carpets, walls, and couches lacked wear or the appearance of stains. It was disgusting.
It was hard for me to imagine why I was so upset back here but now I know. There's nothing to do and people aren't much different then cardboard cut outs. What is there to compare yourself to but the ideas of cartoon characters?
When I finally managed to sit down with my parents they could really care less about what I did in school. They didn't even ask. When we tried to tell them about our teachers or our work they would change the subject. Most of our conversations consisted on money or what we did wrong. Mom lectured us that we shouldn't focus on comic books and that we look at the world too much in an idealistic way. What the fuck? Nobody, especially my parents, knows me enough to tell my my views are idealistic. Both of them also lectured us on ways to get money on how to further our career and that we didn't know how to do it right.Yea, okay. We also tried to show them some of my friends works but they also criticized that as well. Mom also wanted heather and I do hop to get a job this summer. Which I didn't mind as much but it just bothers me that my mom didn't exactly even ask about what we have been doing for the past year. Also dad got onto us about cleaning and how we must clean at least 10 minutes a day. I had pointed out to my dad that I didn't understand his extremes on how clean this house should be. Compared to my other friends this house was spotless. He laughed at me and said the house was a complete mess. God... then he told this story on how a bug sprayer or whatever found some dust in the window seal. Oh no guys dust? No!!!
When it gets down to it how clean our positions should be does not matter to a point. We all die and when we die that house will decay coming down with all of it's cleanliness. My parents don't have hobbies or try to enjoy the little things life gives you. You'll never know what it is you enjoy unless you go out there and find it. Cleaning can't really be their only priority. When they are not cleaning their watching T.V.
Well..I suppose I have things to do. Good night.
Driving through the neighborhoods the whole scene played out awfully in my head. Out of shape people fighting to walk short distances, young couples walking dogs, kids riding on bikes seemed like some awful illusion on what makes people happy. Everything here seems so controlled compared to New York. Houses lines up evenly with no signed of flaws. Nice paint jobs, lawns cut so fine it almost gave off a false impression that grass actually grew that way. People smiling and waving like programs welcoming new people to their small town.
It all lacked natural care; humanity. Everyone, everything looked the same. There's no sense of personality; individuality. Driving closer to my house I had this overwhelming feeling that this itself was hell. This neighborhood felt so secluded from the rest of the world. Spoiled children were so depressed, self righteous over such mundane things. No one here understands what it is that makes the world beautiful.
Walking into my house nearly made me vomit. Everything was perfect, so nicely placed. Just walking into it you'd have no idea who the hell this prison belonged to. Magazines are so nicely placed on a vacant counters. Carpets, walls, and couches lacked wear or the appearance of stains. It was disgusting.
It was hard for me to imagine why I was so upset back here but now I know. There's nothing to do and people aren't much different then cardboard cut outs. What is there to compare yourself to but the ideas of cartoon characters?
When I finally managed to sit down with my parents they could really care less about what I did in school. They didn't even ask. When we tried to tell them about our teachers or our work they would change the subject. Most of our conversations consisted on money or what we did wrong. Mom lectured us that we shouldn't focus on comic books and that we look at the world too much in an idealistic way. What the fuck? Nobody, especially my parents, knows me enough to tell my my views are idealistic. Both of them also lectured us on ways to get money on how to further our career and that we didn't know how to do it right.Yea, okay. We also tried to show them some of my friends works but they also criticized that as well. Mom also wanted heather and I do hop to get a job this summer. Which I didn't mind as much but it just bothers me that my mom didn't exactly even ask about what we have been doing for the past year. Also dad got onto us about cleaning and how we must clean at least 10 minutes a day. I had pointed out to my dad that I didn't understand his extremes on how clean this house should be. Compared to my other friends this house was spotless. He laughed at me and said the house was a complete mess. God... then he told this story on how a bug sprayer or whatever found some dust in the window seal. Oh no guys dust? No!!!
When it gets down to it how clean our positions should be does not matter to a point. We all die and when we die that house will decay coming down with all of it's cleanliness. My parents don't have hobbies or try to enjoy the little things life gives you. You'll never know what it is you enjoy unless you go out there and find it. Cleaning can't really be their only priority. When they are not cleaning their watching T.V.
Well..I suppose I have things to do. Good night.
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