Friday, July 6, 2007

Four Walls

I am a homebody type of person. I love to sit on a porch and read a good book, grab a pen and scribble down fast into my journal until the sun comes down. I love to watch movies, documentaries, and am addicted to Dirty Jobs. I geekily flush over board games (I am a kick-ass Jenga player...holla) and am a total sucker for a good intense video game.

But you wouldn't know it if you saw my schedule or counted how many times I have gone out in the past two months. People who don't really know the me inside - who is content with sleeping in on lazy Saturdays, watching the sun come up, kicking back and relaxing with nothing particular to do...would think I am as wild and crazy as Paris Hilton, partying out at all late hours of the night.

I climb into the back of old Camaros, Contours, and Integras or M3s, M5s, and Celicas - music blaring at high decibals, a car full of people ready to go to the club. I, like everyone else in the car, took the time to at least dress halfway decently, put some make-up on, actually blowdry my hair out...

And yet even after all that effort placed in going out, I'd really rather be somewhere else. I would give anything to be anywhere else.

So why do I go out still?

Four walls. That's my answer in just two words. To be quite frank, I have gone quite bonkers. I thought that I could be stronger than that - but cabin fever finally won out.

It's funny how cabin fever, in its utter most crevices of desperation, forces a person to do things that she might not find as entertaining as it should be. I love hanging out with my friends. I adore them, probably in a way that would make me their biggest fan. But in the end I feel like I end up standing in a corner, sitting in a corner, or in some arbitrary hide out section of the club, bobbing my head with my arms across my chest (yes, I am THAT gangsta.) I do dance, and yes, I love to dance, but I am just as content dancing in front of myself in the mirror in my Paul Frank pjs as anyone else would be dancing in front of the DJ booth at a PvD show.

I think this is a phase that everyone hits - and I just think that I hit that phase at an earlier time in my life. I am like that with everything - I am so premature with my phases. I had my identity crisis from 10-13. And now I have reached the point in my life, at the ripe age of 21 years - not even finished my first year of fully being able to legally drink - already done with partying, drinking and clubbing.

I seriously cannot explain to you how much fun I had playing with Ryder and watching Backyardigans. I had a blast. Almost more fun than he did.

It's just frustrating for me because these four walls of my room are closing in on me. I feel suffocated all the time in that room - and yet it's my only sanctuary. It's the only place in the house that I feel comfortable and away from the tension. It was something and is something that I am so proud of myself for creating ...I pulled the carpet, washed the wood floors down, scrubbed the window sills, did all the painting by myself, bought all the furniture for myself...everything. But after a while, staring at the same four walls and watching reruns on TV only tides you over for so long. I am a homebody by nature - but it's killing me when I am being cornered into being a homebody. I have no choice. No ride, no ability to get where I want or need to go. And the walls seem to get smaller and smaller whenever I come home from work.

I know that it's only a matter of time before everything pans out and comes to fruition. But for the time being, like I said, I am going bonkers. I feel like I am beneath a heated blanket, and it's 98 degrees all around the outside. It feels like this never ending swelter of heat, and frustration, and tension. Not between anyone and myself...just me, myself and I.

So I end with this song:

Right now I feel like a bird
Caged without a key.
And everyone comes to stare at me
with so much joy and reverie.

They don't know how I feel inside.
Through my smile, I cry.
They don't know what they're doing to me.
Keeping me from flying...

That's why I say that
I know why the caged bird sings
her only joy comes from song.
And she's so rare and beautiful to others.
Why not just set her free?

So she can fly, fly, fly...
Spreading her wings and her song.

Let her fly, fly, fly...
For the whole world to see.

She's like a caged bird...
Fly, fly, fly..
Ooo, just let her fly, just let her fly.
Spread wings, spread beauty.

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