If it is true that home is where the heart is, it would verify my longing for home--or where my heart is. This semester has been an emotional roller coaster of stress, anxiety, motivation, uncertainty...I don't think I have to continue for my point to be made. Needless to say, homesickness has been pretty prevalent in my daily routine. I just didn't realize before now that homesickness can be caused from a variety of sources. I can now say I have come to that realization.
*Missing my best friend, who fits every definition of the term, can lead to symptoms of homesickness. Having him traipsing away in Australia doesn't make the situation any easier. Knowing that he loves it, and is doing the right thing...does ease the pain, but not enough...neither does the anticipation of waiting for a letter...without the key to a mailbox.
*Having my only link to home, and another best friend, prioritize over me. That'll do it...
*Working in an ideal office and then having to leave. Starting a new job. Going from the all-knowing to all-new. Homesick for work, my story gets more pathetic.
*Going into a new program, at a new school. Having to get used to different teacher styles of teaching and testing. Homesick for High School, and Lynda Hamblin... See, I told you it got worse.
*Being away from my family during the summertime, the best time, during all the vacations, family parties, neighborhood get-togethers etc. To sum it up, family bonding. Normally I would complain about too much "family bondage," but not this week, this week I long for the captivity.

There's no place like home.

Let me introduce you to my trusty little Kia. Kia is small, travel size for your convenience. Manual, utilizing just enough of a clutch to let you feel like you need it, but it's not really necessary. She comes adorned with a dashboard that is raising with age, and yogurt stains on the seats. She makes low moaning sounds with even the slightest pressure on the gas peddle. Sometimes she even jerks, almost like she is going to come to a complete stop mid-drive, just to give you a little heart stopping thrill. She has a unique feature of a shattered front window, which refuses to cave, her tire jack comes minus the jack, and sometimes the windows refuse to role up straight and on track--especially noticeable on rainy days.
She never lets me down, (unless you count the 2 blown out tires, and completely stopping once mid-exit) this car has pulled through countless times, and given a performance of a car a decade younger. She has endured countless trips to Vegas due to our vain need of orthodontics, she has transported me and endless friends on excursions varying from the grocery store to Southern Utah to Rexburg...and beyond. She handles the snow well, just not the ice. She can brave the wind, just not when it's blowing. She loves to take nighttime strolls, but cannot very often due to the fact she is usually missing a headlight.
Today my little Kia took the worst beating yet. Traveling through small construction in Idaho Falls, coming home from work, The car in front of her unexpectedly slammed on it's breaks. No match for the Lexus, Kia's hood was massacred. Her front fender bruised, and her poor license plate mutilated.
She has fought a good fight, I just may have to admit to her, and to myself, that she has finished her race.

Countless times I have been told that I am overbearing, blunt, that I thrive on attention, too forward, that I speak my mind...you get the point. Here's the deal: Who's to say that's a bad thing?
Since leaving P-town and attempting to make a life of my own, I have found that I have to watch this more carefully. I am slowly and painstakingly mastering the art. Let me give an example: After being kept awake, by a roommate who felt the urge to do Yoga in the middle of the night, until about 2 in the a.m. I pushed myself out of bed, determined not to toss and turn any longer, but instead try to do something to occupy my mind and hopefully lull me to sleep (microbiology. works like a charm.) I entered the living room, text book in hand, to find her singing along to her music and calmly practicing Yoga. Charming, I'm sure, but not at 2 a.m. I settled on the couch, opened my book, but instead she found it necessary to carry on conversation. I am my father's daughter, and conversation is probably all too welcome for me. As we started talking, she stated she used to be "fat." Unsure of her definition of "fat", I asked her to clarify. 135 lbs. Heaven forbid. Mind you, at this point it was not easy for me to stay composed, as it is very obvious my right toe may weigh 135 lbs. As the conversation progressed, I admitted to eating problems as a freshman in H.S. Nothing serious, or even worth mentioning, we all know I love food too much for anything to progress far enough to cause damage. Her next statement left me speechless, which rarely happens. She said, "Wow, I can't imagine you skinny. Maybe you have gone completely the other way. Most people with eating disorders end up over eating. Maybe that is your problem." And then the killer, "I mean, you aren't honestly satisfied with the way you look are you?" Talk about sticking the knife in and twisting it for good measure.
Now, my point is, my natural instinct was to stand up and tear her limb from limb...questioning the weight of each body part as I progressed. But, instead I simply stated I was tired, and headed off to bed-only to have my alarm sound 3 1/2 hours later, waking me, still fuming.
Ironic, isn't it? All my life I have had to be reminded to keep my opinion to myself, watch what I say, and think before I act. But, truth be told, at least the irrational, unplanned actions allow me to have my say, defend what little ego I have left, and leave me with a sense of satisfaction.