mute.

...so. A few people from various quarters have written me some very nice things lately. It makes me grateful- I wrote happy, but erased it, because what can I say? "Happy" is an incredibly ephemeral state, and I don't lay claim to it, despite being fortunate enough to have moments of joy, or just enjoyment, now and then in response to some stimulus. My mood has been variably shitty in the past ... while. Enough so that even were the usual stage fright- prompted when someone makes basically any sort of positive-ish response towards something I've done or said- not an issue, I would still have the problem of not being able to stay in a good enough state of mind to be able to write an entire reply. A few nice sentences, and then a sharp left turn at self-deprecation, followed by an uncontrolled swerve into bitterness.


And while there's no little voice that literally says, "you don't deserve to know anyone who has a chance of genuinely liking you. You don't deserve to have people be nice to you," there may as well be, for I do believe it, when you come down to it.

Not that it should matter- what does any of it ever come to, after all? But this hasn't yet stopped mattering. I suppose than in the midst of everything else, I should let myself be glad for that, even if I don't have any idea what to do with it.

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Home again?

Parents floored me the other night by spontaneously suggesting I move in with them, work fewer hours, and finish my last year of undergrad. I think my initial response was a completely involuntary spluttering of some version of "Are you insane?" though this was more out of surprise that they would choose to subject themselves to having me live with, and to some degree off, them again. Still haven't been able to process this proposal.

The only thing that comes to mind as a possibility as to why they would ever think it a good idea (apart from the normal parental urge to see my education finished and myself set up on a career path that fits their not too unreasonable impressions of what I should or at least could be doing with this portion of my life) is the possible arrival of a set of grandparents from across the country who would need care. For some reason, said grandparents get along with me pretty well when we're together, and having a third person around would certainly help take some of the load off of my parents. But I don't think this would have occurred to them consciously, so I'm left wondering. I certainly want to help them and my grandparents, so that would actually be a mark in favor of moving in.

Part of me thinks that this would be the most practical thing to do, and part of me is equally convinced that we would drive each other crazy in a very short amount of time. Good progress on that was made in the past, and I have no interest at all in picking up where we left off. Nor do I have any desire at this point to place myself in a situation that leaves me in their debt, or under an obligation to behave in any way towards them that I wouldn't otherwise. Help is inseparable from interference, and while I'm not sure that it shouldn't be, I don't want to come to depend upon anything that can be taken away on a whim. Being able to say no to them without suffering for it in any other way than experiencing the unpleasantness of having argued is incredibly important to me. When faced with the choice between expediency and autonomy, it's a little surprising to realize that I might actually pick the latter.

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