it’s amazing to me how different i am on my own and in my parent’s house. when i live under their roof, i tend to be a bit more of a slob, not keep after my clothes, leave my desk a mess and never really come home. when i live on my own i do much the opposite: i clean up, i do the dishes, i keep my desk clear, i put my clothes in the hamper and i enjoy the silence of home. i keep telling myself it has something to do with some kind of ownership; knowing that i am the only one that will do the work drives me to do it. but that’s not a good excuse.

right now the rents are gone. it’s just me and teddy at home and while he doesn’t like to clean up very much, i have the sudden urge to take out the trash and run the dishwasher. strange, i know. the work has to get done somehow and if theo isn’t going to bunker down and do it, i guess it’s on me. this isn’t any diss to him (i know you’re the only one who actually reads my blog), it’s just an observation of my strange life and my strange double standards.

sometimes i really want a nine-to-five; just a simple job to go to, one i enjoy, and one that makes a decent amount of money. i don’t need a lot, i just need food, shelter, and cable. ha. i kind of want to be one of those old people who have “their shows” that they watch. i’d love to come home on a thursday night and make myself a sandwich and watch Bones or House or something.

it’s not extravagant, it’s not up-beat or anything to gawk at. it’s just…simple. it makes sense. and i searching for security amidst the risks i’m taking? i wouldn’t trade my music for anything. honestly. but a thursday night alone is eerily tempting.