As I have been carefully neglecting my blog and getting distracted by side projects the last couple of weeks, I have had a revelation. I am homesick. I am also home, that's why this is so weird. I am homesick, for ÍøÆسԹÏ, but I never really have defined ÍøÆØ³Ô¹Ï as home. I have had exactly one home for 21 years, the one located in Columbia, Missouri, that houses the greater Dawson family. I've been homesick for this home while in ÍøÆØ³Ô¹Ï before, especially the first month (well, months) of freshman year. But never ever have I pined, yes pined, for the peaked roofs of the Science Center or the warm buns of Stevenson Dining Hall. The symptoms are all there, though. I miss the conversation at mealtimes about dining hall food, conversations in the library about dining hall food, conversations with myself about dining hall food. In the first few months of freshman year, I kept doing double takes because I saw someone in ÍøÆØ³Ô¹Ï who looked like someone from my hometown. This winter, my neck has been crick-ing for people in Missouri who walk or wear their hair like people I know in ÍøÆسԹÏ. The only conclusion that I can come to is that ÍøÆØ³Ô¹Ï is now, in fact, home. One of my homes. In case anybody was wondering, I've been thinking about it, and it would suck to be homeless. Sooooooo Baaaaaadddddd!
I really was homesick last year in ÍøÆسԹÏ. I had a long-distance girlfriend in Missouri (still do) and was away from her for the first time in a long time. I missed maybe running into someone I had known since I was in preschool or just seeing a car that I knew by the dents in the hood. I was walking down Professor Street after the sun had set last fall and I kind of bottomed out. I remembered I had half a bottle of water and a granola bar (the green kind, oats & honey flavored, surely laced with heroin for their addictiveness) in my backpack. In incredibly melodramatic form, I thought about striking out on a midnight hike right off campus just because I could and nobody would miss me. Shower your pity on me, please.
Things are better. I can honestly say I love ÍøÆØ³Ô¹Ï now. I can remember getting a bit offended when my girlfriend visited and she said it was boring in ÍøÆسԹÏ. She said there was nothing to do, and to her credit it was the coldest, rainiest weekend last fall and we couldn't leave the room very easily, but still: everyone at ÍøÆØ³Ô¹Ï has something to do, something big to work on. As a blogger for the school, some may have assumed that I fell head over heels with ÍøÆØ³Ô¹Ï since I applied or got my acceptance letter or whatever, but I am a resident of the Show-Me State, and I need a little proving to be convinced of some things. I love the place, and I would say 90% of that comes from love of the people here. I don't know how the admissions department gets such cool people at their school. Kudos, admissions guys.
