The catharsis of bitching / by Bryan Trude

Yesterday, when I posted about the moving process in an attempt to both relieve some stress from the ordeal and post something at least modestly worth reading, I mentioned how complaining about the annoyances in my life were somewhat cathartic, even though it feels like I'm whining, because I am. 

Nothing wrong with that, right? Right? 

Self-depreciating jokes aside, I could use some catharsis. 

My parents' house went live about an hour and a half ago, and already I'm going to spend the next hour and a half at a rock and roll-themed pizza joint, suckin' down caffeine and calamari while people I don't know wander through the closest thing my scholastically nomadic ass has to a home, judging it in the interest of making it their own. 

This image has defined my life pretty much since Spring Break. 

While I realize the process of moving cross country is stressful for everyone involved, for me it's proven to be particularly off-putting. I don't know, maybe after a pair of whirlwind semesters halfway across the country, I was looking forward to a brief respite in to normalcy.  

Plus, I'm not a big fan of surprises, and "Surprise, we're moving to Oklahoma, and since you have no job or means of support, you get to roll along with us whether you like it or not" is a big flippin' surprise. 

Though I wasn't as angry as she is about being confined to the garage during showings. 

While my mother is right in that once the house sells, things can settle down and I can try to find a little bit of normalcy for awhile, that doesn't give me any comfort in the here and now. There is no stress relief in the present. 

At least whining on my blog gives me a little bit of catharsis, even if it makes me look childish.