Home Is Where the Heart Is
Ugh. Doesn't it bother you that such a famous saying ends with a dangling participle? Irks the hell out of me. As I'm sure it's becoming apparent by now, I only really have time to write about my own stuff when I'm home, and I've always got new things on my mind at that time. I wrote half of the Mexico blog and my power went out, so God knows if I'll ever have little enough going on in my head to finish it...I may abandon ship. Don't judge me. Despite the fact that traveling gets easier, and you start memorizing airports and CT Limo trips, going home never ceases to be strange. Furthermore, the more time you spend away from home, the less it feels the way you remember it when you get back. My idea of "home" has become so scattered, so far removed from the familiar concept with which I grew up. Of course, I've talked about life as a college nomad before. I talked about how I fell in love with Yale, how home ceased to be enough for me, and how di