one of my worries in the blog thing is repeating myself. there are times when i sit down to write and get part way through an entry and it sounds so much like something i wrote before. whether that's just because i was THINKING about writing it before while i was running or driving or doing whatever...
trouble had a post the other day that started out kinda rough (the situation, not her writing) but ended with a warm and fuzzy. she defines "home" in a way that clicks with me and my definition of the term. when i was in jr. high or high school i brought home "platoon" to watch. alot of people at school had talked about it and i wanted to see it. my dad and i had watched some other war movies and he'd opened up about some things and at that point we weren't communicating as well as we could be, so it was nice to have that way to bond. i thought platoon might be another good experience. about 30 or 40 minutes into it dad shut the movie off. the next day we were doing yardwork and he talked to me about it. it wasn't that it was bringing back any memories or anything like that, it was the cursing and violence with the rest of the family watching. he said that if i wanted to watch that by myself, or with him when my mom and sisters weren't around, he'd have no problems with that. (i should say here that in 33 years, i've never heard my mom use a curse word stronger than "darn" or "shoot". she's worked in resteraunts and retail, so she's very much aware of them and exposed to them, she's just decided that she is not going to use them.)
i asked my dad why, and he went on to say that he wasn't stupid. he knew us kids were exposed to stuff outside the house, and he was sure that we all probably cursed and did things we shouldn't when we weren't around him and mom. the thing is, he felt that a home should be sanctuary, a place to escape the ugliness of the world. we always moved, we've got a white-as-white can be father and an asian mother, we all inherited my dad's clumsiness and what not... we were all picked on in school. no worse than anybody else probably, but at the time it always felt like the spotlight was on us. he knew this, and wanted home to be that place where we could come, be ourselves and know we were loved and accepted. we fought and had our disagreements but at the end of the day we were still family. not watching a movie like that with everyone around was one of the ways he felt he needed to protect that. my mom and sisters didn't necessarily want to watch "platoon" in the first place, so i was forcing that ugliness on them.
now i'm weird. i'm just now starting to plant roots. i've actually lived in the same city and worked for the same company for 7 years. i kind of like it here. but between the army and being a nomadic family growing up i have never really felt like "home" was some region of the country that i made trips back to. "home" is just wherever the hell i drop my bags and pass out for the night. all i really need nowadays are my cellphone, laptop and a book or two to read. i love to travel for business and have been trying to find a 100% travel job. i get into a routine wherever i'm at and i'm happy. one of the things that makes this possible is that i'm comfortable in my own skin for the most part, and i do things my way, just the way i like them. this makes cohabitation a total battle for me. it's not "my way of doing things" anymore. it's "our". i'm not the only one that decides where to put stuff or how to do things in the house, and it's amazing how much stress this creates and how much it takes away from the sanctuary of the home. and it's amazing how vulnerable that comittment can make you. you take what used to be good hearted joking around to heart. no one can hurt you so much as the people you let into your heart. you're not just giving them the run of the house, you're giving them free reign in your nogin... they push the furniture around up there and go digging through your mental closets looking for skeletons. i'm not sure how long it takes to sync with someone and get over that stress. my parents did it so amazingly and made it look so simple. in some ways their "perfect relationship", while a great example for what love can and should be also set us kids up for failure because they made it look so easy. we didn't see the compromise and give and take that are necessary in a good working relationship.
my dad and trouble really know what the idea of a true "home" is, the problem for me is figuring out how to get there sometimes.
9 comments:
I really liked this post.
I know that I repeat myself endlessly on my blog. I catch myself being self-conscious about me; then I remember it is about what I am thinking, and if I think the same thing sometimes, oh well.
The idea of home is a rough concept. I have lived in one city all my life, but I don't know if I would say "home." I don't consider my parents' houses homes. And as for cohabitation, never tried it.
Sean..I've NEVER lived alone..but I can say that when you find the right person to share your home, your life and your nogin with, you'll know it..
loved this:
no one can hurt you so much as the people you let into your heart. you're not just giving them the run of the house, you're giving them free reign in your nogin... they cush the furniture around up there and go digging through your mental closets looking for skeletons.
I've been pondering this post since for two days. It struck a real cord. I, like you, do not find "home" in a location. I, like you, find cohabitation akin to invasion.
I don't know the answer. I wish I did. I guess it's taken me a long time to realise this was even one of my questions.
But, I do know that having someone to wake up with. Someone to hold you during the bloody parts of Platoon. Someone to smile and eat the chili even though it's horrible. That is worth compromising the placement of the magazine rack. Because that, no matter where you go, is home.
This post really hit home (no pun intended) for me. Thanks for sharing. Your dad certainly sounds like a wise person.
I feel you on the "where is home" thoughts as I've moved from another country and lived in several different states. However, you seem to have a cool, positive attitude and when you have that outlook in life, the person you choose to share your life with, when the time is right, will be a lucky person.
Oh, and no worries about repeating yourself. Hey, it's a blog. Just write what you feel, it's all good! ;-)
I've moved several times, so home isn't a place to me as much as it is a feeling. It's something you create, your sanctuary. It doesn't necessarily matter if you're alone or with other people there, as long as you feel safe and comfortable in it.
I'm glad you liked that post. :)
How evocatively you wrote this. And even if you have questionings..seeing the person that you are through your writing gives me the confidence that good things are in store for you.
I could've sworn I posted this morning saying I'd be back..I hope it's okay..but I'm sharing a prtion of your writing to the kids in school..the lead...was very good..and they can relate to you...
I feel so good to have read this..thank you.
juz' me..
Lux
It's hard to create a home by yourself...and then hard to allow another person the freedom to create alongside you, and to step into your personal space- but it's another form of intimacy when you do.
Like everything else in life- it takes practice. Your parents gave you a great role model and a wonderful thing to strive for.
( I can't imagine how much more difficult it is for kids who grew up with dysfunction and divorce and abuse.)
Home should be a shelter- it should be a safe place for all who dwell there. What a gift you will be- and are- to those who share their life with you.
:)
By the way, you can't repeat yourself if you don't post. But I don't think that's a solution.
Hint hint hint.
This is a fantastic post.
Post a Comment