So, as probably a lot of you know, I am back at college. For those of you who I am woefully out of touch with, those who have randomly stumbled across this blog, and those who just like to be reminded of things, I left this school a little over a year ago, not only not intending to return to the school in particular, but not intending to return to any school ever again. I got a job in a bagel shop and took my GED(I had never graduated high school). And I thought that was it until I got the urge to reapply to my old school.
Now that I’m here, I’m not quite sure what to think. Wednesdays are overfilled with classes and meetings and the dodgeball I wish I didn’t have to go to, but have to because of physical education requirements. (My dorm is up a very steep hill which I climb multiple times every day. In dodgeball, I mostly stand in a corner trying not to be noticed. One time, I got hit in the face twice. Why do I need this again?) Weekends spent on campus seem to be filled with bad luck. But Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays are usually pretty good, so I guess that’s a bit more than half my time spent being okay. I genuinely like all of my classes, and, while I am generally bad at people, I have a smallish sort of social life, which is kind of cool, except on weekends.
What surprises me most though is the realisation that I am living. By that, I do not mean that the zombie punk dress was a subtle hint and that I ran into a necromancer last month. It just struck me this evening that I’m used to the hill, I have my schedule memorised, I have all relevant numbers for living here memorised, and I recognise most of the people on campus by face at the least. But more than that, my brain is not thinking of this campus as a strange place where I’m staying until I go home. I have accepted being here as my life, which is a lot more than I had back in Baltimore.
Despite not seeing my dorm room as just a place to sleep until classes are done, I don’t think I can really call where I am home. In addition to classes, I have noticed that the band Placebo has secured a spot in my favourite bands/musicians of all time alongside the likes of Emilie Autumn, Garbage, and Patrick Wolf(that is not the full list). The first song on their first album(also titled Placebo) is called Come Home and I have become addicted to it. Although I can(and have) give a line-by-line breakdown about why I connect to this song so much, I will limit myself to just mentioning the phrase “come home” which in the song is repeated as a chorus, as it relates to me, and probably only me. I don’t hear this line as talking to another person. I hear it as talking to myself. Because despite the fact that this school has been the closest I have ever felt to having a home, it still isn’t. I’m still looking for my home, and in the back of my mind, I still see being here as temporary.