Wow, so this is the first time I've seen a computer since Thursday.
I went home for the weekend, for the first time since I left over a month ago. It was crazy-busy. Okay, so it wasn't exactly, but when you're trying to fit as much family + boyfriend + friend time in as possible, it seems like it.
I remember reading a classmate's post about never really feeling at home again, once one leaves. I have to say I don't feel that way. Maybe it's because I moved back after I graduated and lived there for a year. Maybe it's because my roots are too deep. I don't know, but whatever it is, it makes it so hard to leave.
When I was a child, somewhere between the ages of 8 and 11, I went to summer camp with my friend Emily. Save the awful experience of Girl Scout camp, this was my first cabin and horses and freezing-lake-swimming trip. I was excited at first, but soon enough miserable.
This camp was about 15 minutes away from my house and I cried every day. I would actually get sick to my stomach at night for no other reason than wanting to be in my own bed. I would chew Tums and step outside queitly hoping to vomit, but the only thing that helped was knowing it was going to be over.
I've always been the type prone to homesickness and college has been no exception. I was completely depressed throughout my first quarter of school (at Ohio U) and it wasn't until I transferred to Ohio State that I actually felt comfortable living away from home.
It's all a complete contradiction though. I hate certain aspects of living at home and I couldn't wait to leave when I was 18. Don't get me wrong, I don't want to spend another year there, but I find myself wanting to go back for the small comforts I miss; The Beacon Journal in the morning, Thursday's Lounge, free parking, being able to ask Daryl to come over and have him respond with "Be there in a few."
I guess it all comes down to my obsession with nostalgia. When I'm home and I roll down my window to smell the leaves, I remember Saturday morning soccer games and trick-or-treating down Market Street. I've had a lot of trouble coming to terms with the fact that I will never be a child again and I will never get back that sense of unapologetic, un-fucked-around-with happiness. To not be jaded? To not feel guilty? I miss that. And I know it's still possible to feel that way, but it's more unlikely.
I sound really emo. I'm not, really. I do have a natural tendency towards the melodramatic. Plus I just got back and I'm missing people and didn't I already do this school thing? Why did I sign up for this again?
I went home for the weekend, for the first time since I left over a month ago. It was crazy-busy. Okay, so it wasn't exactly, but when you're trying to fit as much family + boyfriend + friend time in as possible, it seems like it.
I remember reading a classmate's post about never really feeling at home again, once one leaves. I have to say I don't feel that way. Maybe it's because I moved back after I graduated and lived there for a year. Maybe it's because my roots are too deep. I don't know, but whatever it is, it makes it so hard to leave.
When I was a child, somewhere between the ages of 8 and 11, I went to summer camp with my friend Emily. Save the awful experience of Girl Scout camp, this was my first cabin and horses and freezing-lake-swimming trip. I was excited at first, but soon enough miserable.
This camp was about 15 minutes away from my house and I cried every day. I would actually get sick to my stomach at night for no other reason than wanting to be in my own bed. I would chew Tums and step outside queitly hoping to vomit, but the only thing that helped was knowing it was going to be over.
I've always been the type prone to homesickness and college has been no exception. I was completely depressed throughout my first quarter of school (at Ohio U) and it wasn't until I transferred to Ohio State that I actually felt comfortable living away from home.
It's all a complete contradiction though. I hate certain aspects of living at home and I couldn't wait to leave when I was 18. Don't get me wrong, I don't want to spend another year there, but I find myself wanting to go back for the small comforts I miss; The Beacon Journal in the morning, Thursday's Lounge, free parking, being able to ask Daryl to come over and have him respond with "Be there in a few."
I guess it all comes down to my obsession with nostalgia. When I'm home and I roll down my window to smell the leaves, I remember Saturday morning soccer games and trick-or-treating down Market Street. I've had a lot of trouble coming to terms with the fact that I will never be a child again and I will never get back that sense of unapologetic, un-fucked-around-with happiness. To not be jaded? To not feel guilty? I miss that. And I know it's still possible to feel that way, but it's more unlikely.
I sound really emo. I'm not, really. I do have a natural tendency towards the melodramatic. Plus I just got back and I'm missing people and didn't I already do this school thing? Why did I sign up for this again?
posted by suzified @ 9:49 PM
1 Comments:
At 11:52 AM,
Lewis said…
Well, you can't go back (in time) to escape the here and now, but going home can sure provide some perspective and, occasionally, food for thought. For me, the additional benefits are visiting a landscape I can't get out of my system and helping out my 83-year-old mother, who was always the soul of generosity with her children. My 35th high school reunion is coming up in a couple of months - the closest I ever come to time travel :-).
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