what is home?

I've come home....sort of. Instead of returning home to L.A. I decided to spend some "down time" in Colorado, doing things like writing that novel I always planned on doing and creating a whole new jewelry-line for the winter season. These are pretty grandiose plans, but the fact that I really only know a handful of people in this area, is definately helping me to focus on the goals at hand.

Now that I am home, I marvel at things like hot water (spent too much time in South East Asia), giant food portions (run-off from my time spent in Japan), high prices (probably shouldn't have made Bali the last stop during my journey), fat people (there is no explanation, people are just really overweight in America), and the miracle of Target (possibly a store that is almost as amazing as a Japanese convient store...but with clothes that fit.)

Coming home also means that a)I am not stared at or treated differently/delicately when I enter a store, bank, cafe, or any other public gathering place. b)I am not yelled at when I don't understand what people are saying to me. c) I am literate again and do not have panic attacks before making phone calls. d)I am back to wearing a size small. e) When I walk into a resturant I usually know what I will be getting after ordering (no more surprises because I had to just point at the menu.) f)Nobody automatically thinks I am stupid, nor treats me like a child. g)The police officers are less likely to hold me in an interrogation room for hours, unless I actually do something wrong. h) I can eat decent Mexican food anytime I'd like.
i.) Most of the time I understand what is on TV.

I think it goes without saying that I am very happy to be at home. But, I will be the first to admit, that I was nervous about getting on the last flight from Bangkok that would be taking me home. Having had almost 2 months of not having any sort of permanent residence (being between places) I had come to terms with the fact that I had no clear idea in my head of what home was. It wasn't L.A. (the only home that I could picture in my mind), and it certainly wasn't Japan. And as the days grew closer to the moment that I would have to leave Southeast Asia, the more I questioned what I was doing going "home." The news of Hurricane Katrina had fully saturated most of the English newspapers that we picked up: every journalist was criticizing Pres. Bush and told stories about the atrocities that had been happening in the Superdome. I have long been aware of the imbecile we have running this country (I didn't vote for him, I don't like him, I don't think I need to go any further then that in my comments about him.) but I had forgotten about the ignorance and stupidity of my countrymen in times of trouble. I remember wondering along with AB about the kind of mess I was walking into, if the people of my country chose violence, murder, rape, and mayhem in times of trouble over helping one another out, what kind of place is the "land of the free." It's actually really sad, because ideally the U.S. should be a sort of pillar in the global community, what with all of its so-called "racial and religious" freedom...why can't we as a nation be an example of a somewhat utopic society? Why must the people of my country always resort to violence and ignorance in times of struggle. I thought a lot about this during the long journey home.

And since I'm still not very "settled" in my new place, I often wonder if there is a better, safer place for me to call home.