Guest House

Today I went along with the roommates while they went furniture shopping. There were a few things on their list, one being a new couch. Right now, downstairs in the basement, is my couch, chair, and coffee & end tables. I think those are the only things of mine that reside outside of my bedroom. It's perfect furniture if it's the 3 of us, but if we have company over there's not a lot of seating. Let's be honest, on a couch that has 3 cushions, it's really only comfy for two people, one on each end. My furniture will really not suffice when football season rolls around. I spent last fall living on the roommates' couch watching the games, and that's before we were roommates. And it was usually me plus at least one other person. The furniture we sat on back then is an awesome sectional that's in a different room in this house, not in the basement where the badass tv and surround sound are.

For me, the trip was a little depressing. I really do think it's because I use all of their stuff that this doesn't feel like home. And now I'm losing the one thing that's mine. That's not to say when the new furniture arrives we're completely getting rid of my stuff, but it's not going to be in a heavily used room. But it will be cast aside. Maybe "cast" is a harsh word. Moved aside, put aside, out of the way. Heck it might even end up in a storage unit.

I guess I should really be thinking about the deeper meaning of all of this...why is it so necessary that I have "my stuff" when I'm in a house that I'm constantly reminded is my home? The possessive feelings are on my side, not theirs. I guess if I'm really honest with myself it has to do with the lack of accomplishment in my life. A couch is all I have to show for it. At times, in every aspect of my life it feels like there's nothing but failure. Work, relationships, financial stability, hell, even my weight = failure. One would think that at my age I'd be doing something more that what boils down to an entry-level position. Especially considering the time I spent (wasted) on education. And with that entry-level position comes my entry-level salary. I'm practically living month-to-month on my paycheck, supporting no one but myself. At this point in my life shouldn't I be picking out furniture for my house? My own house that I don't even have. I can't afford to live in the area I want, not without selling vital organs and babies on the black market. Maybe that means I should change my wants. Start being realistic and quit this foolish day dreaming. I never thought things would be like this. That's not to say that things are all bad, just not the way I imagined them, and while it may seem like I'm saying everything is horrible, that's just how it feels at the moment, and it doesn't always feel like this.