the name of this place is CUPS. the state that i am in is Mississippi. by all objective views, i could not be in a more foreign land. (though my memories of other continents remind me that there is always somewhere further off than this place.) yet. yet, i find that i am more at home than i have ever been.
ah, and here we are back at the idea of home.
she and i sat on the couch today. we went to the store. we ate lunch. we did many 'normal' things that people take for granted, until you can't do them together. i think back to the internal discussion i had with myself about what makes up a home. i'm finding the idea expanding and filling out the spaces.
it may be simplistic, but i boldly say it anyways: home is where she is. here, let me say it better to try and redeem the potential cliche-ness of the last sentence. it is the little seemingly inconsequential moments all strung together with her that make this life good, that makes home a floating fluid concept that is found more in relation to a person than a place.
as a tried and true, born and bred, to the core Westerner, i take pride in self-knowledge. i sought myself, i sought direction, i, effectively, sought after meaning and fate. but, you've heard me say, that i wasn't looking for Her, when i found her. and, incidentally, i found much more. i found myself, or at least who i'm becoming, or who i am trying to be. i found direction, a clear needled bearing. it is in no particular heading, toward many a goal, but in every snapshot, it is with her. only in relation to her, have i begun to truly see myself.
if you can find me, i might be a bit more quiet. i might have a glimmer-peace in the eyes. if you can find me, i'd love to tell you the story of how i made my way home...
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Friday, March 21, 2008
i leave the familiar far behind
so. here we are again. the promise of adventure and the complete lack of sure things has caused me to seek solace in this blog.
funny. i remember so clearly, as if it was yesterday, packing up my things over ten months ago and driving up the 101 to stay with my parents for a night. I wrote my first blog entry to begin that adventure, here in this very same room. it was the beginning of my most recent roadtrip, and how was i to know, the proverbial eve before my life forever changed.
today was a fateful day. for today, i left my home, that i really didn't call my home, to return home to my childhood home, which, ostensibly, isn't my home anymore, only to fly tomorrow to be with the one person that feels more like home than anything else in my world today. (sigh)
i was adamant for many of the last years while living in SB, that it was, in fact, not my home, that i didn't have one, or at least not a real one like the one i had loved and grown up in. i called myself a vagabond. a man in continual transition. "i could leave at any moment", i would say, mantra-esque. i prided myself with having no more stuff than i needed, and being able to more or less fit it all in my car. i loved to be mobile. yet, i always returned to SB, like a Siryn by the sea, it was.
what constitutes a home?
She and i have spoken hushed words to each other. (they find their mark true as it beats). the quiet moments when i see that home is no longer a place but a person.
but that doesn't mean that when i pulled away from ol' Santa Barbara today, that i did not feel the pangs of leaving home. why?
I began to think of all the one way streets, knowing their comings and goings. to think of the best indie-dive bar, where only cash is taken, and only good beer is given. to think of that little hole-in-the-wall joint that makes better mexican tacos than i've had in mexico. to think of the 4 different side streets and back roads i could take to get to one place. to think of a familiar stretch of freeway that i could almost drive asleep (lord knows i've tried...)
the friends, the 'families' that we create. all of it.
look no further. those 'everyday' things that come and go. those are what constitute a home.
so. i said goodbye. no tears, just a sweaty brow and a brimming american-made car. just a handful of stuff and a ton of memories.
i am off to start a very new chapter, and this book's just getting good...
funny. i remember so clearly, as if it was yesterday, packing up my things over ten months ago and driving up the 101 to stay with my parents for a night. I wrote my first blog entry to begin that adventure, here in this very same room. it was the beginning of my most recent roadtrip, and how was i to know, the proverbial eve before my life forever changed.
today was a fateful day. for today, i left my home, that i really didn't call my home, to return home to my childhood home, which, ostensibly, isn't my home anymore, only to fly tomorrow to be with the one person that feels more like home than anything else in my world today. (sigh)
i was adamant for many of the last years while living in SB, that it was, in fact, not my home, that i didn't have one, or at least not a real one like the one i had loved and grown up in. i called myself a vagabond. a man in continual transition. "i could leave at any moment", i would say, mantra-esque. i prided myself with having no more stuff than i needed, and being able to more or less fit it all in my car. i loved to be mobile. yet, i always returned to SB, like a Siryn by the sea, it was.
what constitutes a home?
She and i have spoken hushed words to each other. (they find their mark true as it beats). the quiet moments when i see that home is no longer a place but a person.
but that doesn't mean that when i pulled away from ol' Santa Barbara today, that i did not feel the pangs of leaving home. why?
I began to think of all the one way streets, knowing their comings and goings. to think of the best indie-dive bar, where only cash is taken, and only good beer is given. to think of that little hole-in-the-wall joint that makes better mexican tacos than i've had in mexico. to think of the 4 different side streets and back roads i could take to get to one place. to think of a familiar stretch of freeway that i could almost drive asleep (lord knows i've tried...)
the friends, the 'families' that we create. all of it.
look no further. those 'everyday' things that come and go. those are what constitute a home.
so. i said goodbye. no tears, just a sweaty brow and a brimming american-made car. just a handful of stuff and a ton of memories.
i am off to start a very new chapter, and this book's just getting good...
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