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Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Last Night at Home

Well, I’m still in the Falls, but I want to write a quick post before I commence my summer separated from all you wonderful people —abroad in the chaotic world beyond my doorstep.  I’ll also use this opportunity to outline my goals for this blog so that you might know what to expect in the coming months.  

Right then.  Oftentimes I begin my personal journal with a brief reflection of how I arrived at my present location, physical or otherwise.  I anticipate that most of my blog posts will mimic this introduction, as it settles my mind, and helps to orient me in the direction I wish to lead myself.  Just so, here I sit. 

Minutes ago I said goodbye to my younger brothers, Dan and Joe, as well as my Dad and Step-mom.  I have returned for the last time to this house on Woodview Drive.  Almost immediately I logged on to Facebook, and I am now sprawled in a chair, an image many of you should be able to envision. After all, I possess a shameless tendency to shift downward into awkward poses when seated for more than a few minutes.  I do it when I’m alone as well; it’s not just for attention!  Indifferent to my embarrassing contortions, the house around me stands like an old friend, holding innumerable memories of my childhood in each of its nooks, and yes, even its crannies. 

Why am I all sentimental about my home, you ask?  Nay, it is not merely a traveler’s tears, wept for a temporary farewell.  It is, quite seriously, my last night here—ever.  I will not be coming back to this place when I return. 

Over the past semester, my Mom has been working to sell this home of over 15 years, and, finally, someone is buying it.  Consequently, I’ve spent the past week here, gutting my room of all the things that made it my own.  The Lord of the Rings posters, shelves upon shelves of books, the ol’ rubik’s cube, AcaDeca medals, clothing, periodic tables, homework, drawings, Pocket Comics booklets, song lyrics, swords, rocks, fossils, photos, keepsakes from grade school, magazines, CDs.  I can hardly call my room mine anymore.  Indeed, when I leave tomorrow, it won’t be.

So here I sit, here I sit. 

I’m not unhappy about moving.  I’m not upset, or angry or disappointed.  It’s just one of those things that nostalgia likes to strangle you with for just a few moments before it lets you move on.  I guess tomorrow I’ll be making that move.

It was a great week finally being home. (Two meanings to the word 'finally'; see what I did there?) I saw a lot of people I didn't expect to see, 100% of them pleasant surprises. Good friends and teachers from Menomonee Falls and elsewhere are responsible for making me the person I am, all inspiration and determination, and I am glad I managed to see some of them once again.

Tomorrow I will embark on the longest journey I have ever been on, and I will be the farthest away from home I've ever been.  Argentina, I think, will not form me.  It probably won’t mold me or define me.  Instead, it will plant seeds of interest and ideas which, I hope, might align me more closely with a future suitable to this goofy brain and body of mine.  I remember Jeff Haubenreich speaking at my high school graduation, repeating the words, "take a healthy risk."  I often think of that phrase, even in the small decisions of everyday life.  But I am sitting here now feeling fortunate that I am capable of taking leaps like this, into the fog of foreign lands and distant from the comfort of friends.  It is from these risks that I intend to significantly magnify my knowledge and appreciation for the world in which I live.

Spanish language, new friendships, unanticipated insight, music, literature, introspection. These are the things I hope to gain, though I know more awaits.

I’ll try to get better about keeping things concise as I go along, so if you found this to be tedious and melodramatic, or simply too philosophical, don’t give up on me just yet. Once I actually start doing things, I'll probably spend less time ruminating dreamily over my purpose in life and more time telling awesome stories.  I hope you enjoy reading me over the next few months—so much adventure and madness to come!  I'll miss you.

Travel Plan for Tomorrow:
Breakfast with Molly Mangan
Finish Packing Up
See Johnny Brodish, Emily Pohl
Leave Menomonee Falls at approx. 1 PM
Leave Chicago to Atlanta
Only a 50 minute layover in Atlanta…a bit nervous about that
Leave USA
Arrive in Buenos Aires, Argentina the next morning


A journey is a person in itself; no two are alike. And all plans, safeguards, policing, and coercion are fruitless. We find that after years of struggle that we do not take a trip; a trip takes us.
-John Steinbeck

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