Where the heart is
I was watching Psych tonight (OMGyay! I actually got to watch my Friday shows today!), which is such a silly and fun show. But, as I've mentioned before, it's also set in my hometown of Santa Barbara, California. Sometimes I wish I lived in the Psych-version of Santa Barbara (because it has a Space Center! among other cool, fictional additions), but tonight I was entranced by every millisecond clip of the actual SB they use for scene transitions and in the opening credits. Every time I caught a glimpse of the real Santa Barbara, I felt a twinge of joy and homesickness. And that got me thinking about home.
Santa Barbara is a gorgeous place, with the sea and the mountains and the beautiful downtown architecture. I always forget how much I miss it when I'm gone. And I'm missing it tonight. It's not the best place in the world -- it's got it's problems and it's super-expensive to live there -- but it's where I was born and lived the entire first 18 years of my life. It's home.
But while I was away at Bryn Mawr, that became home too. It's not perfect either, but it was an important place to me for four years. It inspired my love of the East Coast, where all the interesting cities are within one-day's travel, where it's green in the summer, and colourful in the autumn, and snowy-quiet in the winter, and so magical in the spring. And I had some hard times at Bryn Mawr, but it was also a safe place (I really miss being able to hide away in the London Room or some other nook or cranny). It's not where I grew up (at least not from childhood; I did do some growing there), and I never had any permanent roots there, but it's part of me.
When I try to think about where I want to be when I'm ready to settle down, I just have no idea. My heart is torn in two (three, if you count England, which also stole part of my heart on my visits there) and I wonder how you know where "home" is if you don't know where your heart is. My fabulous Mum and stepdad are in Santa Barbara, and I would love to be near them, but the East Coast calls to me too. When I'm in Santa Barbara, I long for the East Coast. When I'm on the East Coast, I long for Santa Barbara. (And I nearly always long for England, no matter where I am.)
I've decided that the best thing for me to do, is to marry someone rich (because it is highly unlikely that I myself will ever be fabulously wealthy on a librarian's salary) and have three homes: a winter home in Santa Barbara (for when I get sick of snowy winter, because it does rather lose its magic after a month or so), a home somewhere on the Main Line (near Bryn Mawr), and a home in Hampshire (as in England; you see, this rich husband is also ideally British, so he'd have the hott accent and I wouldn't have to worry about both of us getting visas).
And there you have it. I must take care to "fall in love with a man of good fortune."
Santa Barbara is a gorgeous place, with the sea and the mountains and the beautiful downtown architecture. I always forget how much I miss it when I'm gone. And I'm missing it tonight. It's not the best place in the world -- it's got it's problems and it's super-expensive to live there -- but it's where I was born and lived the entire first 18 years of my life. It's home.
But while I was away at Bryn Mawr, that became home too. It's not perfect either, but it was an important place to me for four years. It inspired my love of the East Coast, where all the interesting cities are within one-day's travel, where it's green in the summer, and colourful in the autumn, and snowy-quiet in the winter, and so magical in the spring. And I had some hard times at Bryn Mawr, but it was also a safe place (I really miss being able to hide away in the London Room or some other nook or cranny). It's not where I grew up (at least not from childhood; I did do some growing there), and I never had any permanent roots there, but it's part of me.
When I try to think about where I want to be when I'm ready to settle down, I just have no idea. My heart is torn in two (three, if you count England, which also stole part of my heart on my visits there) and I wonder how you know where "home" is if you don't know where your heart is. My fabulous Mum and stepdad are in Santa Barbara, and I would love to be near them, but the East Coast calls to me too. When I'm in Santa Barbara, I long for the East Coast. When I'm on the East Coast, I long for Santa Barbara. (And I nearly always long for England, no matter where I am.)
I've decided that the best thing for me to do, is to marry someone rich (because it is highly unlikely that I myself will ever be fabulously wealthy on a librarian's salary) and have three homes: a winter home in Santa Barbara (for when I get sick of snowy winter, because it does rather lose its magic after a month or so), a home somewhere on the Main Line (near Bryn Mawr), and a home in Hampshire (as in England; you see, this rich husband is also ideally British, so he'd have the hott accent and I wouldn't have to worry about both of us getting visas).
And there you have it. I must take care to "fall in love with a man of good fortune."