Staticfree Blog

"Home" is shifting again and this time I don't think I like where it's going.

8 hours there, 8 hours back and a few days in the middle. I (this is what gets me, I dislike the place, but I like the company; I miss my friends there, but want to physically be here.) miss Rochester. I've recently rediscovered how many friends (or at least people who can stand my company) I have there, which disappointingly overshadows my few friends still left in the Boston area. Perhaps I should simply do what I did in Rochester - hang out at a coffee shop until cool people fall into my lap (so to speak. I wouldn't mind at all if it literally happened, though).

As Care and I'm sure many others have been longing for: we need teleporters. That way little French bistros could welcome my patronage for lunch, followed by tasty Italian food for dinner - in Italy - and other such pleasantries. Europe would be a lot more fun if it were one decomposition and recomposition of your molecules away.

And "home" shifts. Heading back to Newton, I packed up with no intention of immediate return this time. I took half my bed (the squishy, foldable half that fits into a suitcase), my summery clothes, exchanged boots for shoes, and generally left as much of the Winter as I could in Rochester. It belongs there, living there most of the year. Goodbyes were thrown at many friends who I wouldn't see for awhile ("fall" seems so easy to say, but is still so distant) and at acquaintances who didn't even know I had only been there for the weekend. I hope not too much changes while I'm gone, or if it does, it at least doesn't forget about me in the process. [insert greatest fear here: being forgotten] This will be a true test of long-distance friendship maintenance. If they can perform surgery on someone via robotic arms, I should have confidence this could work.

Is this "home"? I'm still not sure where my home is. "Home is where the server is" they say (well, perhaps only I say that). If that's true, that would put home in the living-room of Geekhaüs. Instead, I'm living in the living-room of my dad's apt. wondering what to do with my time. The place I walk back to from the T doesn't feel like home, but will at least pretend to be it for a good while. I think I'll just do as I did before: slap a "home" sticker on the internet and consider it my cozy place to hide. It's close enough.