Not Quite Belonging.
It's weird, being here. I don't quite...fit, anymore.
I went up to DHS today, to see my former teachers, and try to see the Wind Ensemble. I got to see the Struncs (even though they weren't "officially" there) and the Gs, and Mrs. Hensley. The people I didn't get to see were the directors- Dr. Shine had bugged out early, and by the time I got over the the band hall, Wind Ensemble was finished playing, and were reviewing the video. It was odd, standing there in the corner, listening to Mr. B pull apart a show I wasn't in. It felt...weird.
I guess that the word of the day is "weird." Weird is even spelled weird, what with the "i before e except after c or when sounded as 'a' as in neighbor or weigh", and weird is weird. The english language is the hardest one to learn, I know, what with our strange ways of spelling things differently depending on where you live, pronouncing words ways they were never meant to be pronounced, and the fact that we rarely say what we actually mean. We have idioms and euphemisms for everything, and Americans can talk their way around a subject like nobody's business ("Nobody's business" here being a wonderful example. I could have just come out and said that Americans are able to talk their way around a subject with a skill that no one else seems to posses, but, as an American, I reduced it down to a two word phrase that muddles my meaning.)
Long rambles about language aside, today was pretty good. I slept in (though not as much as I would have liked), got some shopping done, got some new long sleeve shirts and a sweater, went back to sleep, saw my grandparents, had an excellent dinner, and am now here, expounding on my feelings of not belonging.
I thought that when I came back, it would be like I had never left. Everything would feel the same- and in a way it did. It was the same. I'm the different one. I have eight weeks of experience in a new place, being a (well, mostly) responsible adult. DHS is full of new faces- people that have no idea who I am, and who don't care. I am a stranger in the band hall, somewhere I once lived. It's..... I no longer have a driving urge to get back as often. I still miss the DHS band (and still miss the music and players in Wind Ensemble), but I now know why I was fine with not going back. I don't need to. I'm not cutting my roots, they're simply getting larger- holding on to things in Waco and Duncanville.
I'm glad to be home, and UIL tomorrow will be good, espicailly since my dad will need me to moniter a band. But I won't be crying when I leave. I'll be going back to the place that is quickly becoming home-when people ask me where I'm from, I'm just as likely to say Baylor as Duncanville.
Last night, as Caro and I were walking towards the stadium for the game, these two security guards stopped us and asked me (only me. Caro had her Baylor sweatshirt on, and she looks her age.) if I was a student. I said no, and then they asked to see my student ID. Quite snarkily (since I am tired of being thought as younger than I am, thank-you-very-much!) I pulled my Baylor ID out and said "I have a Baylor student ID. Wanna see that?". He kinda backed off, made some joke about me looking like a sophomore (really? No. No, really? I don't think so) and let me go. But it got me thinking. Old me would have tried to fit in, been sneaky about it, possibly pulled out my senior ID and kind of flashed it at them, but new me, Baylor Bear me, tied myself to Waco with my BearID.
I really don't belong here. It's just not my home. And that's ok. It doesn't need to be.
-k-
I went up to DHS today, to see my former teachers, and try to see the Wind Ensemble. I got to see the Struncs (even though they weren't "officially" there) and the Gs, and Mrs. Hensley. The people I didn't get to see were the directors- Dr. Shine had bugged out early, and by the time I got over the the band hall, Wind Ensemble was finished playing, and were reviewing the video. It was odd, standing there in the corner, listening to Mr. B pull apart a show I wasn't in. It felt...weird.
I guess that the word of the day is "weird." Weird is even spelled weird, what with the "i before e except after c or when sounded as 'a' as in neighbor or weigh", and weird is weird. The english language is the hardest one to learn, I know, what with our strange ways of spelling things differently depending on where you live, pronouncing words ways they were never meant to be pronounced, and the fact that we rarely say what we actually mean. We have idioms and euphemisms for everything, and Americans can talk their way around a subject like nobody's business ("Nobody's business" here being a wonderful example. I could have just come out and said that Americans are able to talk their way around a subject with a skill that no one else seems to posses, but, as an American, I reduced it down to a two word phrase that muddles my meaning.)
Long rambles about language aside, today was pretty good. I slept in (though not as much as I would have liked), got some shopping done, got some new long sleeve shirts and a sweater, went back to sleep, saw my grandparents, had an excellent dinner, and am now here, expounding on my feelings of not belonging.
I thought that when I came back, it would be like I had never left. Everything would feel the same- and in a way it did. It was the same. I'm the different one. I have eight weeks of experience in a new place, being a (well, mostly) responsible adult. DHS is full of new faces- people that have no idea who I am, and who don't care. I am a stranger in the band hall, somewhere I once lived. It's..... I no longer have a driving urge to get back as often. I still miss the DHS band (and still miss the music and players in Wind Ensemble), but I now know why I was fine with not going back. I don't need to. I'm not cutting my roots, they're simply getting larger- holding on to things in Waco and Duncanville.
I'm glad to be home, and UIL tomorrow will be good, espicailly since my dad will need me to moniter a band. But I won't be crying when I leave. I'll be going back to the place that is quickly becoming home-when people ask me where I'm from, I'm just as likely to say Baylor as Duncanville.
Last night, as Caro and I were walking towards the stadium for the game, these two security guards stopped us and asked me (only me. Caro had her Baylor sweatshirt on, and she looks her age.) if I was a student. I said no, and then they asked to see my student ID. Quite snarkily (since I am tired of being thought as younger than I am, thank-you-very-much!) I pulled my Baylor ID out and said "I have a Baylor student ID. Wanna see that?". He kinda backed off, made some joke about me looking like a sophomore (really? No. No, really? I don't think so) and let me go. But it got me thinking. Old me would have tried to fit in, been sneaky about it, possibly pulled out my senior ID and kind of flashed it at them, but new me, Baylor Bear me, tied myself to Waco with my BearID.
I really don't belong here. It's just not my home. And that's ok. It doesn't need to be.
-k-