surrealism in suburbia

My parents bought a house, we’re moving in 2 weeks, this will be the first time we lived in something other than a one-bedroom in about 7 years. And it really came at a good time, seeing as how when I come home, both me and my cousin camp out in the living room. It’s too cramped for anything here…

I’m also feeling apprehensive because the neighborhood, while nice, has virtually no people there, I feel like I'm in a suburban video game, like a parallel universe. And when I think of the house itself, it seems so empty, and it just takes me back to the only other time when I lived in a house, in New Mexico. It was a time when I still haven’t broken out of my shell, I was sort of drifting along, lost. I was just starting the awkward transition from a wallflower to something else. So I had vestiges of that brooding self-observer and new desires at the same time about fitting in. I don’t know, that house sort of represented a lot of things to me. Most of what I remember is tinged with loneliness. I guess now that I’m articulating this worry, it seems that there’s a good chance this house won’t be a repeat of the last, especially since it awaits so many's arrival, even after the first few straggles in.

Still, I hate suburban houses where everyone stays in their own rooms, and every street is littered with cars but nothing else. I hate how Southern California in general has no people out and about at all. The opening line in Crash goes something like: “Everyone’s behind metal and glass here, sometimes I think we crash into each other just to feel something”. It sums up my suspicion about this sunny place perfectly.

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