Thoughts on...Home

I have a love-hate relationship with moving that makes me equally dread and anticipate days like today. This morning, I had an appointment to do the walk-in to check out my new apartment for the next school year. For a change, there were some nice surprises...I wasn't supposed to have a dishwasher, and somehow, I do...my first month's rent is $20 less than I thought it would be, the person before me left behind some nice curtains, etc. But as always, there were some negative points-the place seems smaller than I remember it, I don't think my current skills at parking a car are going to suffice to fit my vehicle in the required space, and there is a strange man with the air of a disgruntled Vietnam vet that sits on his front porch across the street giving me the evil eye. This makes me nervous.

Anyway, moving disagrees with me because of the unique combination of surprizes and disappointments that always ensue. Packing things up today made me think about moving, and the last place where I really felt at home.

I remember the first time that I ever moved, when I was nine years old. My new house had two stories, and up until then, I don't think that I had ever been in a house that had two stories. I thought it was a mansion, (it wasn't), but that one fact made me excited to move anyway. The house with two stories had a nice backyard, and eventually, a basketball court. It was home.

Right before my senior year of high school, my family moved again to a new house. It had the address carved in stone letters on the front. My parents timed the move when they did because they wanted it to still feel like "home" to me-that is, I would still live in it for a while before I went away to college. It worked. It was home too, at least for a while.

Within the past few months, my parents have moved to a new house. I have been there once for 5 minutes before any of their things were moved into it. It doesn't feel like mine (I don't have a room there), or theirs, for that matter. Since I moved to Bloomington about a year ago, I have felt a certain detachment from the place I used to call home. Rarely have I even been back there. I feel like the time I lived there was a whole other life ago; that there is nothing left there but empty air and echoes for me.

Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against my hometown. To its credit, I don't feel like Bloomington is my forever home either. The apartment I am moving out of is rank with hometown emptiness. The apartment I am moving into literally IS empty. I am caught in this in-between where nowhere is home.

Mark that I said nowhere, not no one. I guess home is who you make of it...

welcome to the show

Well hello there, gentle blogger. Welcome to my attempt at creating and sticking to writing something. Ever since I can remember, I have had a journal or scraps of paper somewhere with something written on them, but continuity has never been a strong point of mine. I literally had a blog created and ready to go back in November, but for whatever lack of time or motivation, nothing ever got written. The blog got deleted, and here I am starting all over again.

I can't think of what has changed since then; why I couldn't get this off the ground then but I can now. Maybe it was because I have a great talent for ( and thus a great fear of ) embarassing myself. That combined with my people pleasing nature and my happy anonymity make me an unlikely candidate to host one of these things.

Nevertheless, I am curious. So...consider this an experiment. I promise to update at least somewhat regularly (who knows, I may even LIKE it.) As for the topics that may be covered on here, they'll probably range from the sentimental to the serious to the silly. If you ever want to make a suggestion as to something you would like me to post about, send it my way. And with that, I hope you grab some overpriced, overbuttery popcorn in an oversized box, take your seats, and enjoy the show. ( Actually I don't hope THAT, at least eat some rice cakes or some broccoli or something with that movie butter...)