Make Me Someplace I Can Call a Home

Being in Rhode Island is both wonderful and hell on earth. In the days following the non-stop drinking binge that was the nuptuals and New Year's Eve, I've been sleeping for nine hours a night for the first time in months. The only noise is the sound of my brother rolling over in his sleep and my Mom's preparations for work. No noisy boiler, no rats, no fires, no sirens. However, all this time at home means I'm spending time at home. While I love my mother and brother, it's hard to adjust to being home as an adult. I'm used to my own schedule, my own television habits. My Mom has forced me into watching about twenty hours of QVC against my will. There is a perfectly good America's Next Top Model marathon on VH1, but I'm watching some guy named Bob rave about a fugly sweater. I know she's watching it because she doesn't feel well and isn't up for shopping in stores, but it gets on my nerves. And since I returned the rental car, I'm at the mercy of our two cars to get out for a while. Luckily, I do have some people to visit over the next couple of days so I won't be home quite as much.

One of the places I always debate visiting is my old high school. I'm sure many of you feel this way, but walking through the doors of my high school puts me right back in the mentality I had nearly eight years ago. Which kid is going to laugh at me? Which kid thinks I'm fat? Which bitch of a teacher is going to come up and try to take credit for making me the semi-functioning adult I am today? I'm surprised I don't develop hives from the stress. But there are some completely awesome teachers who taught me how to appreciate literature and words that I haven't seen in a while who I'd love to see. Because as much as I hated high school and relished driving away after I graduated with both middle fingers in the air (seriously), those experiences did make me the intelligent, liberal, somewhat neurotic person I am today. And I probably know some of the kids from when they were six and I took care of them at the school's summer recreation program.

I know I said I'd do a photo essay, but I'm lazy and have to help get rid of some mildew in the bathroom before I take my brother out shopping for some new clothes.