Last updated on November 26, 2023
I have hated this summer.
I resent the house because working on it causes way too much physical pain for too little progress. I hate using the sink in the bathroom, as it reminds me of the time and pain wasted on a sink that still isn’t to code. I hate the kitchen, with various things incomplete or missing. I really despise the hallway, where there’s no flooring and the open closet is a mess from water damage.
The house is much too small “per floor” since I can no longer use the stairs without wanting to scream in pain. This means my exercise bike, many books, my desk, and much of my writings are out of reach for me. I’m not about to use the stairs if I can avoid them. It was bad enough on my back for the three weeks essential items were downstairs.
I want a house that is “normal” to my experiences: a nice, Southwest-style home with a single large floor. No stairs. An attached garage, too.
The location bothers me. A lot. I hate driving any more than I must, even though I feel trapped being in the house day after day. I don’t like the outdoors, which are claustrophobia inducing. The homes are too close to each other and the streets too narrow. The closest place I might want to be is in St. Paul, where two bookstores are on the same street. But, the street is too busy with cars and I don’t feel safe riding my scooter in the area.
I am worried about not passing my oral exams on the first try. I must, must, must pass my doctoral exams so I can write my dissertation as quickly as possible. I cannot fail. I’m sick of failing. I want out of here, and that Ph.D is my ticket to something better.
I hate waking up here. I’m depressed, drained, sore, and miserable. I can barely move some mornings. Most days, I try to stay in my bedroom to work for as many hours as possible. I don’t want to see outside. I don’t want to be reminded I am here, in the middle of Hell. Once I see outside, I get so depressed I shake.
I belong somewhere else. Somewhere where I can sit in a quiet bookstore and write. The bookstores here aren’t conducive to sitting and writing. Well, all but for one B&N. Ironically, the B&N in the Mall of America is quiet in the cafe area. It’s an ideal oasis from life. I wish I could locate an equally quiet bookstore with cafe area outside a mall — but it is so cold here during the winter that things need to be enclosed in malls.
There are 23 months or fewer left. I have to make it. But it is getting harder and harder each month. I hate life here more and more. I hate more about Minnesota with each passing week.
Don’t try to tell me its a “Top Ten” city on various lists. Those lists mean nothing to my lifestyle or needs. I don’t attend huge theatrical productions, expensive professional sporting events, or hang out in clubs. I want peace and quiet. I want drives in mountains, time at a beach, and most of all… space. Lots of space between me and everyone else.
The cooler weather during the summer is the only positive. That’s it. One positive. And since I can’t be outside here without feeling like things are closing in on me, that’s not much.
Too much time here is leaving me the most isolated I have ever felt. My writing has suffered, my sanity has suffered, and certainly my health has suffered.
I really do need to leave as soon as possible.