Everyone outside this hotel room looks like an extra for Eight Mile. There is pineapple rum, and nary a sorority girl to be found. I dont know what it is going to take, but every time I come home, I feel this way. The only thing I can say about this place is the hilarious tragedy of a beach resort covered in ice. Only one of the stores per city block is open, while the rest wait for "season". I feel that way about my life most of the time. The only thing you can do is just accept that your desire to get away leads you to questionable destinations. Some patience and discretion will serve you well. We can work on the crippling self destruction and pervasive apathy later.
My sister told me that she wants to be around when she is in stressful situations. I don't feel the same way. It is hard for me to tell when she is being a bigger cunt than usual. This attitude she has when I say I want to leave is not really different than her regualar attitude, just a touch bitchier. She can sit around and wallow while her husband jumps through hoops and her children set fire to the hotel, but somehow, no one understands what she is going through. I think this year, this time, I am going to spend some money and do something I want. Like leave this place and go to a ridiculous concert. It wont be the same as riding a train, but the price difference is negligible and cuts the time by 2/3.
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