I was tired yesterday, I admit it. But, I posted. Yay Dallas! I had a lot of things that were on my mind, but when it came down to writing them, I was too tired. Maybe that was an excuse. Maybe I just didn’t want to write. I often think that my writing is bad, boring, sentences to short. But, sometimes I read over my words and think to myself, “That was pretty fucking good!”
I went to a book launch last night. A guy that I attended an intensive writing workshop with (taught by the awesome Sarah Schulman, dyke extraordinaire) had his first book published. It was a collection of short stories. Most of the room (the cabaret at Buddies) was filled with his friends (or so I guessed), considering most of them were of the queer bear sort like him. I thought about my book launch, because there will be one, and who I would want to be there. I thought of my mom immediately.. and well that isn’t going to happen because she died. I wanted to cry than. But, that is another blog post. I than thought of my BFF Sam. She would be there. And all of my Calgary friends. And Erin. And my family. Than I thought, where would this be? Buddies? No. Too pretentious. So much of the Toronto literati there. I know I am supposed to care about them, but I don’t. I hate elitism. Like seriously fuck off. I just want those I love there. And they aren’t in Toronto. Ok, that isn’t true, some of them are here… There is Rachel and Hope and Felicia and Laura… but that is it.
So what does that mean? Well that got me to thinking about my definition of home. Where was it? Half this summer I couldn’t remember where I was. Was it Calgary? Was it Toronto? I have been so consumed with running towards something or away these last few years that I have forgotten to stand still. I have no home base. Or I do and I deserted it. I have learned through this process that I am not good without a home base. I can travel the world but I need a home to come to when I am done. I don’t have one. I am lost. My head and heart are heavy. When I walk around I feel like this dream I had where I was homeless in the streets of Vancouver and I was trying to sleep in the rain… behind a grid. It was terrifying and so lonely. This is my depression trying to deal with my sporadic nature. I need my home. I know where it is but I am afraid to say it. But I crave it. I need it.
My mom said to me just before she died, “You seemed so happy there.”