Sanctuary of Serenity

Sanctuary of Serenity

I have been residing in my sanctuary of serenity (my apartment), for over 8 months now – and I enjoy my peace.  I think that is why going back to the ‘rents crib in L’ville can be a little unnerving for me.  If serenity was an animal, it would be extinct in my parents’ home.  It’s funny how it can take you forever to adjust to a detrimental living situation, but only a few weeks to adapt away from it.  I mean, all that jazz and percussion that would take place in my crib used to just be subtle background noise to me when I lived at home.  But now, it’s like a maddening overture.  I think I’ve become a tad bit too accustomed to having my own space and serenity.  With all that being said, so long as my parents and my grandma’s health is ok, you won’t find me residing in L’ville anytime soon.  When their health deteriorates, I’ll have no problem doing anything and everything to ensure that they are ok.  But, like I told my moms yesterday, “Right now, while you guys are doing ok, let me chill out for a minute.”  My moms is a trip, she was talking about how one of my friends “makes the cheese” and how her IRS co-workers thinks that she’s so ‘hood.  My moms is classic.

My moms was asking me about marriage again and trying to convince me that I’m getting older and that I need to start looking.  I told my mom straight up that it would be unfair for me to start looking because I don’t really give a shit.  I mean, if I was looking to get married, then I probably would start a preliminary search, but since I’m not, I’m just focusing on my career and living life.  Nada mas, nada menos.  I mean, I tried to explain to my mom that I’m not afraid of getting married or commitment, but she didn’t seem too convinced.  If I met someone tomorrow who was the unequivocal shit, then I would have no problem committing and taking the steps toward matrimony.  But since that person is non-existent in my life, I’m just enjoying focusing on myself and living life.  I tell you, brown folks are uber smitten and enamored with marriage.  I try to tell folks all the time, it’s not like I’m against marriage, in fact, it’s probably the opposite, but marriage isn’t EVERYTHING in life.  I think i felt differently before, but this is how I feel now….although I’m sure this is subject to change over the years.  Brown folks I tell ‘ya….brown folks….Why must we be so difficult and narrow-minded sometimes??? 

I am banking on the fact that I will actually find someone who will complement me and love me for who I am.  I think that things will turn out ok, so instead of dwelling on uncertainties, doubts, and insecurities, I choose to believe in fate, destiny, and all that other idealistic, fictional crap.  I mean, if I didn’t, then I’d probably be panic stricken and palpably terrified.  So, maybe I’m just being ignorant and unrealistic, but ignorance can be bliss…ignorance can be bliss my friend. 

I saw Darjeeling Limited and Rushmore this past week.  Both are produced by Wes Anderson.  I think that I’m not too big of a fan of his.  I heard rave reviews about Darjeeling Limited, but I wasn’t the least bit impressed by it.  I didn’t really get it.  After watching it, I thought, “surely there must be a greater theme or underlying plot I am missing…surely there must be…because if there isn’t, this movie crapped like a constipated elephant.”  Needless to say, I wasn’t impressed by it nor Rushmore.  They were both dry comedies that just weren’t that entertaining.  I was supposed to watch “Into the Wild”, but I heard the book was amazing, so I chose to order the book and read that instead.  I have a new rule:  whenever a movie is based on a tremendously thought-provoking or entertaining book, I will eschew the movie for the book.   Isn’t the book almost always better than the movie?  I sure as hell know The Davinci Code was that way.  What else can I say?  I guess I’m a geek.

We might try to go to Opera Nightclub this coming weekend.  Last weekend didn’t turn out so hot seeing that half of us got kicked out of the line and of the half that got in, a speaker fell on one of the girls.  The night ended with all of us in the emergency room at Crawford Long Hospital on Peachtree.  Thankfully, no one was seriously hurt, save a slight gash on the head for the victim.  You would think that we’d be smarter than to return to that same club the very next weekend, but then you’d be wrong.  Anyways, I’d rather go to a more low key joint; you know, a shitty dive bar or something where we can get flipped out of our minds and occasionally act a damn fool on the dance floor.  Maybe my tastes have just changed, but I just ain’t into dressing up and going out to pretentious joints anymore.  I think I’ve become more low-class and indifferent as I’ve gotten older.  Ain’t it supposed to be the opposite?  C’est la vie, no?

 

 

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