It feels like home to me..

This is something I wrote at camp this summer, maybe editted and added to, maybe not.



Home.
A simple word with a not-so-simple meaning.
Freshman year we had to write a poem about where we were from. I thought I understood it then, but looking back, I know there's no way I could have. I thought I knew what mattered...what made me me. But I didn't really understand. I hadn't experienced enough, lived enough to have gained the insight that allowed me to fully comprehend what the word home actually meant. The full meaning. I didn't understand that home can be more that one place (and that maybe...it doesn't have to be a place at all)--that where you are from doesn't just come from every place you've ever been and every "significant" experience you've ever had...it comes from the places and things and parts of you that have something more. That stick.

So. What is home? It's not just the place you live, obviously. But I also don't think it's just that corny "Home is where the people you love are," either. Because some people aren't lucky enough for that (After all, love is an extraordinary blessing, and having someone to love YOU isn't something you're just granted. Do you realize that?) And you can have people who love you who aren't in the same place you are. The bond that holds you together transcends both distance and time. It's not phsyical, so maybe the bond itself is a type of home...?

So maybe it's not "Home is where your heart is" but I think it's something close to that.
I've had many homes. My first house, which I don't remember much. My childhood home. This house, which I lived in shortest and in which I feel I've grown up most. IU. Forest West 227, more specifially. But other spots where I've made memories, too. Hopefully my apartment, soon. CYO camp, now. Maybe some parts of Perry Meridian High School...the Focus room, the swim team locker room. Those might sound strange, but it's true, I think. My friends' houses. Magic Forest. Random spots along the way that other people might just glance over, but which mean a lot to me.

I don't think it matters how long it's been there--for a home, I mean. I think it's more about HOW it's been there. How it shaped you and how you grew and the impact that it had..now matter what the thing is you're considering "home."
Home is like the backdrop to the drama our lives play out...and for that reason, you don't often notice how much it matters until it's gone.

So maybe you can be at home anywhere. And anything has the potential to be "home" (I know that this has a tinge of the hipster-"Everything is art, man"-vibe. Try to look past it)
Maybe the simplest way I can say it is this: Home is the places you let in. Let matter. Trust/love enough to leave a little of yourself.

To be cheesier: Home isn't where the heart IS exactly, it's the places you leave your heart.
And I'll leave you there. :)

Brand New Day

It's been a journey, and today I fell off the bus.
I'm not sure how what I'm about to type will come out...usually I kinda have these things planned out...usually they're something I've been wanting to say for a long time. Maybe this is something I've been wanting to say for a long time, and I just didn't know it. I'm going to say it anyway, and let it be as it is.
Or delete it tomorrow, whatever.

Today I had a weepy day. For me, at least, when I haven't cried in a certain amount of time, a blow up is inevitable. It never used to be long before it happened...in fact, I got to a point last year and senior year where I felt like I was just continually breaking down. A mess. But something happened this summer...and I'm not really sure what. But I know it's different. I've assumed more of the "listener" role. I don't always need to be the one talking. And I don't need to always be the one breaking down. I can listen and console and pretend to be the strong one even when I'm actually breaking down myself. It's this strange turn inward with a new ability of holding things in and handling them quietly. Less selfish, more selfless. It's healthy.
That was a complete tangent, but one I felt was necessary.
Anyway, I haven't broken down in a long time. But today..I just couldn't. And of course, The Notebook was on. It's like TV Guide times its airing perfectly with my sad days. Incredible, really. I almost didn't have a choice.

First love.
First real love.
I was thinking about it today as I tried not to cry in my car. (And as I try not to cry now) When was yours? You should KNOW. It should jump to your mind immediately, and there should be no doubt. If you don't KNOW, then you probably haven't experienced it yet. At least not love to its greatest potential.
I used to think my story was special. That it was something worth telling. Some epic saga of ups and downs and complications few could understand. But (as I was thinking about it in my car, driving home from The Time Traveler's Wife and choking out the words to Miss Delaney by myself) I realized that it's not unique. Sure, it's special to ME. It will always be that way...always have meaning. But I'm not the only one.
Overcoming first love.
Overcoming first love is HARD. But it always is. The journey is different for every traveler that finds himself there, but it's just as hard on a personal level. Maybe we all deal with it differently, but I think that if it's that first REAL love. Real, IT. That it's just as hopelessly twisted in one big throbbing knot of hurt and complications, and you have to sort it out.
For some it takes longer than others, perhaps. But it's still the same rubiks cube. Prodigy and dunce alike.

I went to the track to run out my emotions. Contrary to what every runner in the world ever has ever said (I am NOT a runner) I like running on the track. Even though it's endless circles of the same thing, I like knowing how far I've gone and how far there is left before I can stop (I bet that says something really deep about my personality, huh?) When I thought I was going to cry, I ran faster. When I thought I was going to die, I slowed down. This song came on my ipod.

--It's a brand new day
The sun is shining
It's a brand new day
For the first time
In such a long, long time
I know
I'll be ok--

And you know...that's how I feel. Truly. I hit a speed bump today. I was sad. I acted on it. I'm going to have more days like that. But I'm still looking ahead, and I finally (finally FINALLY) feel GOOD about where I am. I'm excited to see what's to come. I feel deep down it's going to be something really good for me.
Maybe I've sorted out my rubiks cube after all...
But how should I know? I've nothing to base it off.

(I'm going to stop now. But as a sidenote..This all makes me wonder if this is just the kind of person I am. The kind that has trouble letting go and getting angry and moving on. Or if it was the situation. Or...And it makes me wonder. If THIS is the kind of thing I choose to write about..what exactly is my...blogging...personality? More on that later. Maybe.)

We live on front porches and swing life away..

I'm in the mood to atone for my past.
I want to do something that scares me every day. I want to not take life as seriously. I want to be less worried about what other people think and just go with my gut.

And all of that is fine, and it's good, and that's where I am. But what about this:
It's good to want to fix your past mistakes, but what if your past mistakes just want you to leave them alone and let them move on with their lives?
I think a lot of times we're more self-centered than we realize. Even in the times we think we're being LEAST self-centered. Sometimes I think it's those times when we can be the most hurtful.
We think--and when I say "we" here, I'm mostly saying "I"--that other people's lives hinge on our own person. That when you hurt someone or burn a bridge or make the executive choice to move on from someone or some situation, they are eternally hurt or confused by the power your just exerted. And that when you finally have some perspective and can come back, cool and calm, mature and ready to make amends, they should see the great favor you are bestowing upon them and be happy.
But they don't have to accept your olive branch...and sometimes, just the very presence of you trying to rehash old issues does more harm and brings more pain than if you had just stayed out in the first place.
So where do we draw the line...? How do we decide when we have the RESPONSIBILITY to take action and when we just have to accept the damage that has been done and actually do something BETTER by just leaving it and walking away?

Sometimes, I guess I just realized...Sometimes forgiveness, apology is more about YOU than the other person. And something--making amends--that we normally consider a GOOD thing can actually be far more painful than doing nothing at all.

Sadly, I think this question has been more relevant to my life lately..I've needed a lot of forgiving.
This kinda came out of nowhere..but I think that's sometimes how I stumble upon my greatest truths.
I want to write something about home and how I've changed...I'm getting there, too.