35 minutes ago
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Step out the front door like a ghost into the fog, where no one notices the contrast of white on white
well, the few blogs that i prescribe to have seemed to all have a "home" or some sort of "family" theme this past week. they talked about anything from settling in, to where home really is, and the calling back to home, and even how people from their home treat each other. so i have been feeling quite out of place in all that i do recently, it seems to be somewhat inspiring for a thesis however, and i have actually been somewhat productive this week. Home is an interesting concept for me. i have lived at home longer than many, but i have left for significant amounts of time more than most. i don't think that i can think of a time when i ever felt home sick, and yet i can't think of a time that i felt any different at home than i have in my travels. so what is home? what does it feel like? I have an amazing mother, when I don't get to talk to her, or see her i miss her. but when i am at her house i miss mexico and guatemala, and even idaho. so is it possible to have that many "homes" ? i was talking with a friend last night and she got confused because i called my parents house "home", and i call my current place of dwelling my "apartment" but i feel the same way about them and when i am in them (except for the fact that i don't have the bookshelve space in my apartment that i had before). As a general rule, the first night in a new place is hard for me and i wount sleep real well, but after that i feel just as much "at home" as i do anywhere else. i am goinog on a kayaking trip the begining of november with some friends, i am really looking forward to this, but the interestign things is that teh beach that we are going to sleep on and my goose down sleeping bag are just as inviting and comforting as the couch in house where i spent the greater part of my life. so what is this "home" thing all about?
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6 comments:
Eres vagabundo, hasta gitano pues. Siempre lo has querido ser, por adentro eres vagabundo, eres tu hogar.
I think I used to be able to answer that question, but what I usually call home (as in my parent's house) doesn't feel the same to me anymore ever since my brother got married and there's an extra person I don't even know metida in all our family stuff. I can't seem to recapture the feeling I used to have there. JS is at the center of my newer, still developing definition of home. I'm home wherever he is. I know, it sounds ridiculously cheesy, but I can't help myself. I could be as at home anywhere in the world as long as he were with me. I also can't sleep well my first night in a new place. I wonder why that is.
Home is where the heart is . . . cliche . . . don't hate me . . . but your heart is just all over the place. Not a bad thing just "la verdad".
The first few nights back in Spanish Fork were weird sleeping-wise. But being here felt totally comfortable. My mom's talked about getting a condo and I just can't quite handle the idea of not having a home, even with any apartment/house that I move into.
Home, is where you can be happy. You miss those things you make you happy when they aren't currently with you. So when you change scenery you change what you're missing. But as long as you're happy...you're home.
one of my favorite songs.
Jen
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