Home Is Where the Headache Is

Home Is Where the Headache Is

Hey Team,

So, let’s try to answer that “home question” today. Home has become such a nebulous concept for me lately…especially since technically, I don’t have one. I’ve always said, “I’m not going home until EVERYTHING is crossed off the list.” And of course, I don’t intend to, but after being away from home for so long already “home” has come to encompass something more along the lines of a comfort zone than an actual residence.

I’ll try to explain. I left home to embark on this Amtrekker adventure. Things got very uncomfortable very quickly. I didn’t feel like I was at home. Now I’ve gotten very good at being uncomfortable and as a result, relatively speaking, LOTS of places that I NEVER would have considered calling home before leaving on this trip suddenly start feeling a lot more like home.

I’ve even found myself slipping on a number of occasions after a couple days with particularly cool couch surfers and saying things like, “That was fun but I think after this I’m ready to just go home.” Of course on the surface I mean THEIR home…but I don’t think I’d phrase it like that if I weren’t super comfortable in my surroundings.

After that I found myself believing more and more in the “Home is where you hang your hat” philosophy. And if that’s what I was thinking in other parts of the country just imagine how I feel now that I’m in a place where I actually know my way around. California just feels so comfortable that I can’t help feeling like a cheater no matter where I go.

So far I’ve been justifying things by never going places where any of my belongings are (outside of my backpack) stashed. But it doesn’t change the fact that feeling so comfortable is making me uncomfortable and I’m already kind of looking forward to being on the road again so I don’t have to think about what my idea of home has come to be defined as.

In fact, it’s already giving me a headache trying to wrap my brain around this concept and explain it in less than 500 words to you guys when I can’t even explain it to myself after a week of effort.

Does any of this make sense? I think I’d like to hear your thoughts. On home in general and on my situation specifically. Go.

Comments or forum…your choice.

I’m done.

Brett.

If you liked this post then feel free to buy me some advil.


Don’t let me stop you.


3 Replies to “Home Is Where the Headache Is”

  1. I say home is where your loved ones are. When we were on the college program, I thought Thanksgiving and Christmas were going to be excruciatingly difficult for me, because I had never been away from my family for the holidays. But we had such a close-knit group of friends, that when we made our Thanksgiving dinner, it almost felt like home, like a second family. Looking back, I would say that it wasn’t my apartment in Chatham Square that seemed like home, but Shawn’s. That’s where we cooked Thanksgiving dinner. That’s where Margarita and Sarah and I layed on the floor singing along to the classic rock radio station until we fell asleep. I missed my real family very much, but being with those guys made it so much easier.

    So I don’t think you’re wrong when you call your host’s house “home.” They have welcomed you into their home, you have become friends, so now it’s kinda like you live there too, if only for a few days. That’s probably why you feel like the entire state of California is home…because you have so many memories from there, made with lots of special people in your life.

    That’s my two cents.

    Merry Christmas Eve, Amtrekker!

  2. 1st: Nebulous – great word use.
    2nd: Happy McChristmaskkuh/ New Year/ Canadian boxing day..etc
    3rd. There are places that you want to be when youre at your very best and when you’re at your very worst; The places where you go to glance introspectively at yourself or to rejuvenated and inspired. For me, it’s not the geographic location or the event occuring, but the people that I can spend all day doing anything or nothing with and still love every second.

  3. family for the holidays. But we had such a close-knit group of friends, that when we made our Thanksgiving dinner, it almost felt like home, like a second family. Looking back, I would say that it wasn't my apartment in Chatham Square that seemed like home, but Shawn's. That's where we cooked Thanksgiving dinner. That's where Margarita and Sarah and I layed on the floor singing along to the classic rock radio station until we fell asleep. I missed my real family very much, but being with those guys made it so much easier.

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