The Homicide House.

I've recently moved out of my apartment and into a house. I'm not quite settled yet, but I'm hoping I like the house more with time. I already miss my apartment badly. It was charming and concise with a great view of the port of Tacoma. I loved the neigborhood for the most part, but there was some drug activity nearby at night. All the same, I was on the 5th floor in a corner unit, so I was fairly secluded from anything unsavory. My new house is at the corner of two very busy streets, and the area feels sparse. I moved for a few reasons. 1) I wanted a basement so I could have a music rehearsal space. 2) One of my good friends wanted to move back to the area, so he could be close to his friends. He also wanted a roommate, which leads me to: 3) The rent is nearly half what I was paying at my apartment, due in part to the noisy locale, but mostly because of a triple homicide that happened at the property a few years back.

I'm already having trouble getting back into the give and take of having a roommate again. This especially manifests itself in the area of decor, which is strange. I didn't think it would be a problem, but I've come to realize over the course of the past few days that he is more inclined to arrange things for function, and I, form. This morning, we actually disagreed on which side of a cube shaped ceramic container should be facing outward on the kitchen counter.

Matilda loves the place, though. She has plenty of room to romp around, and more than a few options for soft, cushioned seating to claim at her whim. A happy puppy makes for a less dissatisfied master.

And I am dissatisfied. I've felt ill at ease since the move, and it's hard for me to nail down the reasons why. I know it's more than the house itself, or even it's location (it's directly across the street from my workplace, for crying out loud), but I know there is definitely something wrong. I'm generally cranky, and I'm starting to take it out on my friends. Maybe I want a career, I would certainly like a family of my own, I had my driver's license suspended due to unpaid tickets and almost everything I've ever tried to make payments on has gone to collections and destroyed what little credit I have.

In short, I think I just don't feel like a productive member of society. I feel more like I'm a drain on it, and that's pretty disheartening. But it's not as if the spot I'm in is a result of something that's happened to me, it's due to a lack of action on my part. The tough bit is going to be pulling myself out of my stagnance, and getting it together on my own. That will be difficult, as I'm not even motivated by the society itself, I'm motivated by the idea of being an ideal companion for someone, but I have no prospects to give me the needed impetus. It seems like my only reward for "being productive" is the end result itself, and that is in no way enough to motivate me, nor will it ever be.

There are things in life I enjoy, to be sure, and it's not an issue of self worth. I think I'm fine as a person for the most part, and I'm content with who I am. It just seems like other people don't realize what you're worth unless you're doing something that either interests them, or directly benefits them. I've spent the past 30 years just being me and it's gotten me nowhere. Maybe it's time I started doing something. Maybe not.