Pastures New

These are my friends, here.  But sometimes I hate them.  Is that normal?  Sometimes I can't stand what they say, what they think, what they do.  But I love them.  Is that normal?
Lately the phrase about greener pastures has been running through my head.  You know, "on to greener pastures", or "she was ready for a greener pasture".  I think that maybe my middle name is "greener pasture".  Sometimes, or actually, more often than sometimes, I am looking for something better, something nice, something easier, something greener.
Sometimes I wish that here, in the Philippines,  I had some greener pastures to explore for friends or people.  I wish there were some more people I could go be with for a few weeks, some new faces, new personalities, new thoughts, new comments.
But like my mom observed when she was here, "there's something to be said about thinking you can't possibly stand another minute with these people and then having to keep living with them anyway."
It's true--for now, I have this same pasture.  And it's well worn down, and I know the corners well and the hiding spots, and I know where the dirt is better and I know where it's hardest to find the grass.  But it's MY pasture, and these are my people, and I hate them, and I love them.