When home isn't home anymore.

Blogger never posts my posts in the order I want them to appear in.  I've tried numerous techniques; drafting first and posting in different, various arrangements, positive thinking, etc.  But this shit is about as agreeable as my stomach the morning after a night of contributing to the depletion of a handle of Svedka.  Anywho, my point is this post should be on the top as it is the first in a series of holiday related posts.  If it's not, blame Blogger.  ...Or me.  Everyone else does.

During this time of year, or the time that has just passed rather, all the blog posts are the same.  Tales of our journeys home and how royally weird/fucked up our families are.  But amongst people my age, I noticed another trend.  Tales of how home doesn't feel like home anymore.  When does that happen?  When does the sparsely furnished, always void of food tenement apartment you're currently shacking up in until the lease expires becomes more comfortable than the room you grew up in?  Maybe it's when you come back and see that slowly even more boxes of junk have crept into your old room.  Or when you when you notice that Toys R Us isn't where it used to be, that they switched out all of the old exits signs with shiny new ones, or that you can no longer make a left where you used to always make a left.  Or maybe it's when there is no longer a trace of old traditions and it's apparently no longer necessary to come home for every holiday and every birthday.

For whatever reason, I've always felt that I changed while everything stayed the same.  But in reality, it looks like I changed and just stopped paying attention. 

[Image via we heart it]

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