The return of the prodigal grad student…

Yes, I know it is June. No, I haven't had time to blog. So let's pretend I didn't flake out for three months and move right along.

Anyway, now that a grad school has been chosen, an apartment leased and a dorm room lined up, all I have left to do is pack. However, that is much more complicated than originally anticipated. Firstly, I am moving out of my family home (at least partially) and into two, yes two, different places. The first is the apartment Super Boy (now Super Fiancé) and I will be sharing. The second is yet another dorm room. This is an unfortunate necessity considering the apartment is a good two hours from where I'll be going to school so… two "homes" it is.

But how do you divide your life into equal pieces? I still have a place to crash in my parents' home, so I have to leave some stuff there. And I will be teaching while going to school so all of my work clothes are getting shipped there. And everything else is getting loaded into a truck and hauled over to the apartment. Logically it all makes sense. But really, how do you live in so many places at once? It feels like I am pulled in three directions and once and I really don't have a place to call "home."

Do I have a roof over my head? A place to sleep? A place to work and study? Yes, and I am deeply, wholeheartedly thankful to have so many places to stay if need be. But I don't have that once place, that one spot on earth that is mine. I don't have that niche where I am utterly, entirely comfortable with my surroundings and myself. I don't have a real "home."

But there's nothing I can do about that. I will just have to put up with this awful feeling of displacement until I get a real home to call my own. Until then there is nothing I can do.

I am, in some sense, homeless.