Tuesday, March 29, 2011
What happens when you don't ever feel home? What if you always feel your roots floating around you, never really catching on anything, never finding their way into the soil?
Maybe you'll tell me I'm at that age where you go to your childhood home and realize its not yours anymore and that I'm in the time of my life where I must create my own home.
But what if you never even felt home in your childhood home? What if you live so far into your thoughts that your idea of home is so fantastical you don't even know where to begin in creating something like it in real life?
What about that?
I mean as a child I was surrounded by peers who knew exactly what their future should look like all the way down to the comforter on their marriage bed. I had maybe 40 different scenarios with 40 different people in 40 different locations. I looked different in every possibility but interestingly enough was always a different version of fat :) My future dream sequences ranged from the strikingly plain to the outlandish.
They still do.
I want to live in the English countryside making my own bread and snuggling up to my sheepherding lover. I want be a bellydancing Flower Child who smells like patchoulli and curry. Maybe a life in the Redwoods listening to the majesty of the forrest. A travel photographer. A mermaid drag queen. A filthy stinking rich debutante. Just about anything but a gal who works a 9-5 to barely scrape by.
One thing that always stood out was the lack of the career woman who carefully balances family, work and tupperware parties fantasy. I've never been interested in that lifestyle. I've never been interested in the idea of climbing the corporate ladder. Don't get me wrong I'd love to be the boss of someone but I can't imagine being interested in anything long enough to make it my entire life. I don't like the way I look in suits and I don't care for company picnics.
The complexity of my spirit draws folks in but my ever changing moods keeps them at arm's length. It feels selfish to want someone to run by my side as I chase my flavor of the month....but that's exactly what I want.
…I feel deflated. The idea of going into my “regular” job tomorrow makes me feel like a goldfish in a tied up plastic bag. I’m not dying, I can swim and breathe fine, but its not where I should be and I don’t know where I’m going.
Its time for me to leave and start a new story.
(I don't pay this place enough attention, if you're curious as to where I've run off to check my Tumblr )