Evening Thoughts

There are two homeless people that I see every night on my walk home. They are punctual, always asleep by the time I get there (let's say, no earlier than 9) and are always in the same state: they both sleep on a few layers of cardboard that fold up to block the light, have nice sleeping bags, and hang their personal belongings on the door handle above them.

So in a way, they can hardly be called homeless, because they have a permanent address on their particular front step. If anyone needed to find them, one would only have to wait til disk to be certain of their location.

I'm afraid I've never met them, or even seen their faces. They are either sleeping or not there at all, and I've never been by in those awkward hours of evening or morning when they must retreat before the regular work day starts.

But anyways, this skewed notion of home has me thinking of my own perception of home.
I was asked several times this evening "Where I call home?" and no matter how many times people ask, or how many times I rehearse the answer, I always falter. I suppose this is because I've moved enough times that home isn't a place any more; it's people, a feeling, an event.

One home, obviously, is where my parents are. I lounge around and do nothing, go shopping with mom, groan over absurd dinner exclamations of "I only had X, Y, and Z to eat today!", and consume more home made deliciousness than is (probably, but not likely) healthy.
One home is where Blake is, especially when he's with me. Even the strangest, transitory or new places feel right: a 6 hour plane ride crammed into seats a bit too small, a funny smelling dorm room, a pub in Oxford.
One home is Candice's car, where we spend ages talking about life and love and feeling good, and the amazing things you can find at Salvation Army, or how Martha Stewart is a goddess, or how good food makes you feel whole.

Nowhere really feels like home right now though... I like London, but it just is.

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In other news... I have a roommate again, though I haven't met her. She's sleeping, and I think she might be French. I don't think she speaks much English. I was really getting used to having a quiet space to myself... it was perfect for slow mornings and long homework nights.

I went to dance tonight; it's the only place in London I've met any British people! I didn't dance as much, because I spent more time talking with people. I met a few new guys who were really nice, but the band (which was enormous) was too loud to have any meaningful conversation. Haha, I was asked out to coffee by a very sweet Scottish lad (but of course I said no, dear). I got lots of tips on where to travel to, which museums were the best, etc.

I have a lot of work to do this week, but no class at all tomorrow... so I may actually bathe tonight and get an "earlier" start.