Busiest weekend of my life. On Saturday, I woke up at 8AM for an eye exam (yay new thick rimmed dior frames! ), drop off a bouquet at my mother's office because it was her birthday, got a oil change because the warning light decided go off that day, packed all my belongings into three suitcases (one reserved for all my shoes), and got in to New York by 11PM. Luckily the lover was there to keep me sane, or at least absorb my intensity a bit.
When we finally arrived at the apartment, we started setting up right a way. Obviously Rome wasn't built in a day, but having this feeling of incompleteness--my belonging split between two states, and in some sort of in-between-move limbo, I couldn't help but feel a bit displaced.
And then reality hit me like a brick. I was really leaving my previous life behind, for something new....exciting may be a part of it but right now it was overshadowed by how scared and alone I suddenly felt. Safe and secure went out the window. This is all illogical, I know, but fear of the the unknown is never from the brain but rather a source of the heart. I teared up like a baby a few times. I'm giving up my job, my really sweet bed, and my dad's home cookin. I almost curled into a ball as the boyfriend tried to comfort me as best he could. I settled for mochi ice cream and went to bed exhausted, heart unsettled as ever. Life feeling quite bleak.
This is nothing compared to those who were displaced in a war or those who lost their homes due to a recession. I am being a big baby, but this is my own personal journey. I wasn't born in the States, I was born in Vietnam, after the war. We moved here when I was 11 years old, so feeling lost is not a new feeling, but rather a fear I've come to recognize and avoided since I was 11. I never felt like Vietnam was home because it belonged to those who won the war, and after arriving in the States, I almost felt like we were in waiting...waiting to return to Vietnam when it would finally be ours again, like it was when my parents were young.
The concept of home is quite idyllic. It's the beautiful memories of a past that is long gone. It's almost an opposition to change because it's a yearning for the familiar, the stagnant past to stay the way it is forever. I'm mourning something that I never had, whose memories were never mines to begin with. The concept of home has always been about the past to me, but I'm starting to realize that along with everything else in life, your idea of what makes a place "home" is also transient.
We are creatures of change and transitions.
Today he showed me how to use the subway to get to work. I start in a week and after a year of dating my New Yorker, I had purposely remained ignorant of the inner-workings of the New York subway system. Luckily, I only have to stay on the "Green line" and make two stops. Walking to work would take 20 minutes, so I'll save that for when I'm feeling randy.
One sweet perk to the weekend; the US Open. Attended for the second time in a row and got to see the Murray-Wawrinka match on Sunday. We were rooting for Wawrinka the whole time so it was exhilarating to see him win.
But yes, the title says it all.