Sunday, November 27, 2005

I'll Be Fine When The Rain Hits

Still, inexhaustible homesickness. It's enough to make you feel worn out and depressed: where does it all come from? The time of year certainly isn't helping, either; everyone knows fall is the most nostalgic of all the seasons, and the still uncomfortably strange weather and lack of pretty leaves are only aggravating things.

So: thinking a lot lately about that talk I had with that friend of mine, about how I told her I wasn't so sure about moving to Berkeley, nothing personal; Berkeley is a great city, but I just thought that, considering the situation at home, we wouldn't really hit it off. I told her I was thinking about staying in San Diego, where I could finish at City and keep my job for a little while longer, maybe even move up in the company. She said something about the necessity of sacrifices, about how sometimes you have to just tough the bad part out to get to the good part. If your situation seems maybe to be simply a matter of finance and endurance, an opportunity to build character (as it maybe could be euphemistically called), what should you do? I didn't want to think of myself as someone who couldn't tough it out.

I also think a lot about Emily Bronte starving herself at a boarding school in Brussels so she could return to Haworth, Coleridge's poems about missing home, John Clare's nervous breakdown after moving four miles away from the cottage he had lived in his whole life. No one seems to get homesick anymore these days. (I sometimes get overly suspicious, think to myself that the abundance of strip malls and Starbucks must have something to do with it.) I feel like this is supposed to make sense to me, that maybe this emotion has been made obsolete by airplanes and cars and highways that turn into turnpikes that turn into freeways. But somehow it doesn't. Not completely, anyway.

I guess the trouble with talking about it is, though, if you're stuck, you're stuck. And it's silly to be living with the love of your life and blubbering about wanting to go home. Maybe even worse is the vague feeling that it's something you should discuss sparingly -- not just because it seems sort of ridiculous to people, but because it is not a problem with which there is an obvious way to make progress (short of actually moving), and if nothing else, you don't want people to get sick of you because they're sick of your problems.