"We live in an era of terrible preoccupation with presentation and interpretation, one in which relations between who someone is and what he believes and how he expresses himself have been thrown into big time flux."
--DFDubs. This is super earnestly copied into my notebook. I even gave it spacing lines above and below so its wisdom would not be lost in the penciled mess that is the rest of the pages.
Getting back from vacation was strange. Not running on much sleep, I giggled a lot. But I also cried. Provo for various reasons is my self-imposed purgatory, if that isn't redundant. And after the relative freedom of being somewhere else, I could feel all those constraints and cages and chains etc. tightening and closing and snapping etc. as soon as I got home. And even today I find myself being too shy and thoughtful again. Too calculating. I hate it.
It's irritating because that is not who I am. (Although I am consistently a drama-bear.)
And it really hit home how much of identity seems to be contextual. And maybe this is why some people are afraid to go other places and why I can think of nothing else but chose to come back here in the first place.
I mean, I'm a girl who's lived all over. I'm published. I've had some crazy adventures. This is not in accordance with who I seem to be here. Whatever.
WHO CARES though.
6 months, knock on wood, and I'll be gone! Although I'm extremely sad to be leaving my family and friends. Boo. Don't even want to countenance that right now.
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