Thoughts on Home
Coming back to the States this time was fairly easy. Actually, I am a little disturbed at how easy it is getting. I am very thankful that I had such a good trip to Korea, and that I am not taking on unhelpful worry or anxiety about the current state of affairs here, but sometimes I do look in the mirror and feel like I don't know myself anymore. And sometimes I think back on life in my early 20's, just out of college, my first house, my puppy Auggie, my not-so-good job that taught me even more cynicism, and the friends that I had (have) though now, 10 years later most are married with kids.
Am I bothered because coming home is so easy or because you can never really go home?
Home. What the word means changes all the time. It definitely is associated with family - but that changes too! When I was in college I came 'home' to my parents, my sister and our dog, Bessy and cat, Frisky. That was home.
After college I came home to my parents, because by fall of 2001 my sister was married. Now home includes not only her husband, but his rather large family and all of their perpetual drama.
Frisky died right before I left (again) for Thailand in 2003. Home was now my parents, and my dog Auggie. In 2004 they got Zac, a rather larger (and dumber) Great Dane to keep Auggie company.
In 2007 my nephew, Cody, joined the family in a rather unusual way (he is 11 and my sister and brother-in-law are his legal guardians) and with Cody came, to a lesser extent, all the (tremendously disfunctional, illegal and digusting) drama of his family. (To this I will add a "bless his heart" because truly (bless his heart) it is not his fault that his family are such f**king idiots!)
I went to the Dominican Republic from 8/2007-6/2008 and during my time there Pila found me. (Now I should add a 'bless their hearts' for my parents as they have 3 dogs and their 32 year old daughter (me) living in their house.)
Now coming home is my parents, Auggie, Zac, and Pila. Extended by sis and her husband, Cody AND niece on the way (sis is due in April.)
And my heart, still whole and unclaimed, wanders hither and thither trying to determine what adventure is coming next - which happens to be a trip to NYC next Thurs - Tues. including a job interview with the NYCTF. (However, they require a 3 year commitment, and I am just not sure I want to commit to ANYTHING for that long.) See, that is a problem. I have often wondered whether my single status, my wanderlust and my (often latent but never completely cured) ennui is because I have a deep seated fear of commitment. Which, honestly, doesn't usually worry me in the present but does tend to make me a little concerned for future me looking back in 20 years and wondering "what the H-e-double-hockey-sticks were you doing all that time????" (I mean, lets face it, if I want a 30 year mortgage paid off prior to retirement, I had better obtain a deed pretty quickly.)
Lest you wonder whether I am slipping back into the grey, sad place that I inhabited for so much of my 20's the answer (to the best of my ability to ascertain my own random emotional state) is no. I do not feel hopeless. I do not feel panicked. I feel pretty certain that all these questions about the future will resolve themselves shortly. But, I wouldn't be me if I didn't occassionally obsess about 'what it all means' and 'what does this mean to me' and 'how did I get here/where am I going' and all the other existential malarky that I have spent so much of my life pondering. Even now I am having to remind myself to unfurrow my eyebrows (wrinkles) and stop working so hard to answer questions that do not have answers. As I have heard stated several time recently - 'don't let the facts get in the way of the truth'.
These appear to be the facts:
I am jobless, living with my parents, watching the rest of the world play grown-up while I trot around looking for work that will allow me to continue to travel and trapse like a vw-van-owning hippie.
The truth: Life is pretty damn good right now. I feel younger and more hopeful that I have in quite a while. I look in the mirror and think I am more beautiful than I was 3 years ago. I smile at how much less seriously I am learning to take myself. (I think) I am getting better at choosing 'good eggs' and not the relationships that turn out spoiled and smelly when you crack them. I sleep in a pink bedroom, and it doesn't make me feel the need to rebel anymore (and while I still like dark eyelienr and lipstick (circa 1993) I CHOOSE when I want to don that persona and not the other way around.)
For those who just want more pictures: I should be posting a plethora from NYC so stay tuned...