There’s a weird almost different dimension of life that exists in the suburbs. Sometimes I feel that when I come here, I arrive with ideas and aspirations and the longer I stay in the house on the street I grew up on with the dunkin donuts down the corner and the fear of running into people I went to high school with, the more I forget what these were or rather the energy to actually do them. In university I would sometimes have 3 classes, coffee with a friend, studied for an exam at the library for 4 hours, made a homemade dinner with my roommates and still managed to keep up with my course readings. Here, I go to one scheduled dentist appointment and that’s the feat of the day. Time moves differently here. People too. It’s an almost purgatory, waiting room, a place that leads to another. Months pass as days blur together nothing specific or changing to ground your existence to linear time. Although it sounds depressing when I have my distance, the environment envelops me in comfort when I am here, like a deep sleep I don’t quite want to wake up from, despite the opportunities that may lie outside the sheets.
I have been working at Starbucks during my time at home. I sometimes have to get there at 5:30 in the morning so I wake up when it’s still dark. The exact pain of the alarm at 5am is something I haven’t really gotten used to but it’s never as bad as I imagine in my slumber than when I adjust my eyes to my bedside lamp. I go through my calculated routine to engage myself in the least amount of thought and effort as possible. Then I drive the 3 miles to my destination and sit in the parking lot for 5 min of silence. Usually it’s raining or wet enough that my windows clog up and I can create my own little ruminative atmosphere. Sometimes I think about the promises I told myself as I drifted off to sleep and then make excuses about why I wouldn’t be able to complete those tasks that day. Other times my mind stays blank (I marvel at this secret ability and treasure it). The days have passed like this.