Background Noise: 'bucks sunday study session
Last Visited: "What's the difference between unconscious and subconscious?"
Random Thought: "... in essentials i believe he remains as he always was."
Mood: one more night and i should kick this exhaustion
So the whole Opera + Nice Restaurant + Friend Time + Beautiful Hotel == Very-Good-Must be-Repeated-Experience.
Besides the general exhaustion this wasn't a bad weekend; we won the football game (though, sadly, both ND and OSU pulled out victories), had fun hanging out with Nicholai and this dude who i think i've known since like high school - or at least i should. I found out Sauce is a must when anywhere near the Civic Center. I had fun; i escaped for a few hours; i gained the perspective i was hoping i would when i booked the mini-break in the first place.
... and now? Now i'm just tired. The crazy swing that was home then last week at work has neutralized itself and i no longer want to scream at the wind the why-oh-whys of being here. I remembered something when i was driving this morning; a story of when my family moved to Canada when i was 7 that... helps, in an odd way.
[Cue the flashback]
When i was 7 things were great; i had a home i loved, a school i loved, a best friend who was like so cool and a ton of friends in the neighborhood to play with. Then i found out not only was i supposed to move with my family to a whole other country, i found out my best friend was moving away on the same day too. It was horrible.
When we arrived at Belevedere Crescent at that beautiful brick corner house with the blue shutters i announced that i hated it. And when, years later, my father announced that we were moving back to the states, i was trilled. I waa-hooed, i jumped, i smiled, i was so happy; my brother and sister were miserable, but i was convinced going home was the right thing to do and i was psyched; I was positive i would be returning to the home i remembered, the home i loved, the people i loved. I wasn't much more than 11.
But the reality i moved back to was not what i had imagined. When we returned to Michigan it was to a house that was not my old house, to a neighborhood that wasn't my old neighborhood, to a new school where i knew no one; the home i remembered wasn't there to go back to. And though i had cheered leaving Canada, i began to realized exactly what it meant to leave the friends i had made, the school that had given me so much, and the idealic home my parents had chosen and created back there on Belevedere Crescent. And i quickly realized my folly for wishing to leave what had been my home.
So much of the good that happened when i was in Canada i missed because i wanted so badly to be somewhere else. So many of my happiest memories i fought every step of the way because they weren't happening with the who's and at where's I wanted. I fought tooth and nail against that place being my home; only years later did i find out that it was truely the best place for me and was more a home than Windmill Lane could ever have been.
Yet once more, for the first four years i was back in Michigan i fought living there and being happy every step of the way. I didn't truly begin to feel comfortable there - like it was my home - until well into high school.
[Exit flashback]
So what's my point? Austen was right: though i have changed and grown in many ways, i still remain, essentially, as i ever was. I'm stubborn and it takes me a long time to feel comfortable in a good number of new places. Some places feel like home instantly; most take work. It can take me a while to identify a situation correctly, but i finally have... and i need to try to give this place time to grow on me before i rush to say i hate it forever.
In other news, i should wait a few weeks before leaving Puff again - he wasn't thrilled with my packing up and leaving again yesterday afternoon. I think i'm on probation. :) Dear Lord i love that Cat.
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