homecoming

this weekend was relaxing until sunday. Couple small dents in my beautiful cold grey windy days. My mom called and all she cared about was my work, but that's ok, i've gotten used to that. Then i get to come home and find that the house got broken into, my dad's pretty pissed, but i really couldn't give a fuck. whoever it was took a couple really old computers, so it's not like we lost anything of value, i'm pissed off that i wasn't home, i wish i had been. They tore up my room a bit, dumping all my clothes onto my floor, but i realized that i really don't have very much of value aside from my computer, which was with me, and my ipod, which is never leaving my sight again. Police showed up and milled around, completely useless. Now i'm going to be up all night working cause they were here mad long talking and calling people. I'm just pissed off. It was a nice weekend though, so beautiful upstate it hurt, both being there and leaving. It's odd to say that it was painful to be there. but it's my favorite kind of weather, cold and windy, grey and beautiful. I wish that i was like that, but i guess i'm just a self-centered cynic and emotional recluse. That kind of weather that makes you sad, and makes you glad you have someone to curl up with, or sorry that you don't, sory that you don't let people deep enough into your life, or they end up getting hurt. I'm sorry that i can't stand it enought to let people get hurt because of me, but i can't, not if i care enough about them to let them really know me. So it's a viscious cycle, and there's no real way to avoid it. I'm going to start writing more here, it's soothing.