One part whiskey, one part love, two parts crazy

I'm at my parents for Christmas break, it was not the original plan but things changed. I surprisingly feel more at home here than I ever have. In reality this house has never been a home to me for I never wished to leave New Brunswick. Leaving Rusagonis changed everything for me, it was the first move that really affected my life. I've come to realize I've been letting that hold me back, I've held the life I had before on such a pedestal that I could not be as happy as I was then. My life is falling into place perfectly and it is time for me to embrace this. New Brunswick still means the world to me and it will always be my home but it is time to feel comfort elsewhere.

Nobody grows old merely by living a number of years. We grow old by deserting our ideals. Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul.
--Samuel Ullman

Minya and I, she's so gorgeous, I wish I had the musical ability she deserves

Home

I have been thinking about this for a long time and debating posting it. Today in my Intro to Cultural Geography we discussed it and it brought up some new things so I decided to post about it finally.


To me a Home has always meant a place where you are secure, loved and feel comfortable. You should always feel like you belong there and it should be your sanctuary away from the world. For the people who know me, they know that I don't feel that way about the house my parents own and I lived in. To me where I was living was simply a building in which I slept, ate and such. I was not emotionally attached to the building, and hardly to the inhabitants.


Ever since I moved out and started school I have been thinking a lot about whether I am homeless or if I have a home. The conclusion I came to was that my body is my home, and wherever I am at the time is my home. However, this would mean that even if i'm in a place I don't like, I am home. I am comfortable in my body, I am secure in my body, I am proud of my body and it is my home. I would love a home that is also a house but I will have to wait on that.


In class we were today we were told to draw a mental image of our home and then we were asked:
if it was where we slept last night (quite a few hands went up), the place we grew up (the majority of hands) and if anyone had drew something that was not a building. I was the only one to put my hand up, others may have not admitted it, but I was the only one to say that my body is my home. I can't help but feel jealous of all the kids in my class for having a place to call home, somewhere to be loved.


This has really made me wonder where other people call home; the house they grew up in, the house they're in now, a certain place...? I believe that home is a feeling and it can't be stuck to four walls and roof. What do you think?

No one's gonna make me
Nothing's gonna take me
I ain't ever goin'
Back there, again

--Blake Shelton