Thursday, June 05, 2008
Home is where the heart is?
The prospect of leaving is becoming more attractive each day. It's not that the grass is greener on the other side or anything. I know for sure that the grass won't be greener. I know for sure that there might not even be grass on the other side. But the other side is not home. Deficiencies in a strange land can be tolerated. But when it's your own home that's faulty, when it's your own house that's not so grassy, you just can't handle it. The mess in someone else's house is not your mess. It is annoying. It might even prevent you from finding your way around the place. But it's not your mess. It's not in your own house. So no matter how it bothers you, you are in no way responsible for it. But when it's your home that's messy you can't just ignore it. You can't just try to find your way around it. It hits you in the face around every corner. You see it in every nook. And you can't turn a blind eye. You can't say this isn't my shit to deal with (pardon my French). It is my shit and I can't deal with it anymore so I'd just have to go where I don't constantly see it. Where I'm not constantly reminded of it.
* And of course, I would love to be in a place where the grass, even if not greener, minds its own business and lets me live my life the way I want to live it.