Disclaimer: This probably won’t be very well written. You’ve been warned.
I’ve been harboring these feelings for a while, yet I don’t really know how to constructively act upon them. Perhaps synthesizing my thoughts and writing about them will help me clear my head.
At least, I hope so.
Right now i’m sitting in San Jose. It’s tuesday morning, and i’ve just crashed at one of my best friend’s. This was after a night of spontaneously making the hour long drive here from san francisco (after making a drive from berkeley.) I haven’t had school since last wednesday. Sure i’ve had my plate filled with youth mentorship and church, but after sunday night, I was free to go home. Home home. Home for the holidays.
I see a lot of posts with excitement about going home, being with family, seeing your friends, leaving school, taking a break, whatever have you. Even if someone is from socal or even if he/she’s just local, it’s mostly the same. That feeling that overcomes you when you realize the burden that was fall semester has been lifted off of you and you can just relax. The excitement of returning home triumphantly after a long semester at school… and damn, it’s been a long semester.
I’m rambling a bit, so let me cut to the chase. I don’t know what it’s been about me, but all throughout my college career, going home hasn’t felt the same to me as it has to everyone else. It never had that pull, that charm, that aura of shelter (i’ll explain in bit.) I was never able to escape the college life just by taking a trip home, no matter how much i tried. Call it a fault of my hometown, but there’s seriously nothing much to go home to. There’s nothing to do. All my friends have either bounced, or grown apart to the extent that we wouldn’t even hit each other up anymore. So where does that leave me?
People have told me that I’m quite the nomad. Truth be told, I’m only avoiding the place I call home. I don’t think that’s anyone’s fault, honestly. Due to how much I travel, live, and do work around the bay, I’ve noticed the absence of a true home base. A place to go for the times where I need to throw my hands up in the air and say “Eff this, I’m going home.” A place to go where I need to find comfort and shelter when I’m feeling defeated. A place where no one can touch me. I’m a little upset that there isn’t a place that exists right now that suits all of the required criteria, but I just can’t do anything about it. Not now.
So I search for it. And when I find such a place where I can rest, I’ll take the drawstring bag out of the trunk of my car, and post up.
And even when I don’t have the drawstring bag with me, like right now, It’ll be okay.
