Tag Archives: home
Put your dreams away for now/ I won’t see you for some time/ I am lost in my mind/ I get lost in my mind/ Mama once told me/ You’re already home where you feel loved/ I am lost in my mind/ I get lost in my mind (The Head and The Heart- Lost in My Mind)
Last night was the first time I cried for my sister, the one who is strong, loving, kind, amazing, and awesome. We were talking on the phone, she was unable to sleep. It was hard. It was the first time that it became real how far away she is living. I want to get on a plane so badly and fly to Williamsburg and never let her go. She misses home a lot and she has been having a bad week. Problems with her fridge and with work. She is stressed. I can hear it in her voice. Moments of panic, doubt, and “did I make the right choice” clustered together in her frustrations. Even though, she is my older sister. I want to explain to her, so badly, the ethics of having a soul. I want to hear her thoughts, ideas, and passions. I want to give her what I cannot give myself. I want to hear her stories, record them in my mind. To play back in the forms of quotes and hear the words of a young chef. I want to whisper with her in the night plans for the future and mutter, maybe even curse about the past.
I want to hug her and have her push me away. I want to physically hold her before she is physically pulled away from me in order to remind me of what I lose every time she leaves. It’s been six months since I last saw her. Actually it’s been three days. She was on Skype. In person, it has been six months. Sometimes, I want to scream “that I can’t do this anymore”. I want to hear her call out “Baby Bear” for the room next door when she is looking for me. I want her to use up all the hot water in the shower. I need her. I need her half-smile that she gives, her know it all attitude, and the fighting over books. Most importantly I need her home, safe and sound.
Ralph wept for the end of innocence, the darkness of man’s heart, and the fall through the air was of the true, wise true friend called Piggy (Lord of the Flies, William Golding)
What defines a home? According to Google, home as a noun is a place where one lives permanently, esp. as a member of a family or household. As an adjective home means relating to the place where one lives: “your home address”. I feel like these definitions are too vague.
What is home to me? Home is a lot of places. The place where I am now is home, the house on Dixon Street, is where I permanently live. Room 646 was home, it was first place that I lived on my own. I have memories of trying to cook eggs in the microwave, failed craft projects, homework, tears, frustrations, where I wrote my papers, read books, listened to music, and dealt with the ever problem of the red ballon. I learned how to share a space with somebody else, how to trust somebody that I did not really know well, and think about hard issues.
Home over the years has been many places. Home started out in the first house we lived in, which was the house on Valley Street. It was a house that my parents built and it was the house that had the best porch ever. We moved when I was in the second grade to the house on Dixon Street. I remembered when we first moved being excited about stairs, the fish pond, a playroom, and the gazebo with the hot tub. This house has been where I have grown up and tried to figure out life. I have spent many nights trying to figure out what am I suppose to do with my life, telling stories to help me sleep, and sneaking the flashlight under the covers to finish a good book. This house is where everyone is, where my sisters and I seem to meet up. The common location.
Home could also be in California where my cousins lived for a short period of time. My family use to visit two or three times a year before we started school and before my cousins moved overseas. It was the house that I was afraid of mostly because I rolled down the stairs when I was five and hit the back of my head on the wood floors. I was also afraid of my Aunt and Uncle’s dog.
Is home the people or is it the physical properties that make up a home? Such this blanket that I am huddled under, the chairs in the playroom, or my room. Is home where my parents are or my apartment next year with roommates I don’t know? Where is home? What is home?
My favorite thing about Google and possibly the best thing that I have discovered is that I just have to type in the words Define: [insert whatever I need to look up]. Sure, I am eliminating the need for a dictionary.
I have been thinking a lot of about music lately and how the lyrics tell a story. I have been really into folk music as of late, Mumford and Sons and The Head and The Heart. So I asked Google as I like to do to define music, what is music? Music is in fact a noun, pointing out the obvious. Definition: 1. The art of science of combing vocal or instrumental sounds (or both) to produce beauty of form, harmony, and expression of emotion. 2. The vocal or instrumental sound produced in this way.
In my own words, Music is the art of combing both vocal and instrumental sounds to produce emotional response through the form or in the harmony. I like Word Press tag definition the best: “We’re melodic creatures, responding emotionally and physically to the lull of a siren’s heartache or the strum of a guitar.”
I have spent a lot of time at music festival, not really. I have been to a least two or three mostly Austin City Limits but I have been to a variety of concerts. I love the atmosphere, I love how everyone is gathered together to here one band play or see their favorite artist in real life. Here are some of my photos from experience raw live music.