Nomad No More

Last night when I was talking to a friend. I looked up and saw something I had been looking for all week long. The laundry room coin purse. I squealed. She said,"Whats your problem?"

"I found something I have been looking for all week long!!! Now I can do some laundry."

Then the conversation continued, but at that peak moment a thought crossed my mind. Its probably not the one you are thinking. What crossed my mind was, I have been in transition mode for most of my life. Moving. Moving. Moving. No wonder I can't find anything, I am always living out of boxes. In limbo. Only keeping out what I need at the moment. Lets examine my nomadic transitions.

My first move happened when I was an infant. I grew up in my big two story house on Hartwegg Ave. in Ft. Thomas KY. I have been told that we moved twice before my move to this house, but I don't consciously remember it. Then, when I was 13, in 1972, we moved to Texas. And that was major league devastating, even though I was unaware of it at the time. From the white cultural mecca of Cincinnati OH, to a tiny town between Houston and Huntsville where there was still unspoken segregation, and LOTS of trucks. Yea. This move was the first of many. I don't think outside of living with my parents I have ever lived in one place for more than two years. Yikes. Can you imagine? Lets fact-ualize this.

This thought process started yesterday afternoon when I was looking up someones address/phone number online. It occurred to me to look up my own. What is online about me? I finally got to the page with my information and there it was. I had six documented addresses in Dallas. But, I would say in the 15 years I lived there, I had 10 different addresses (apartments/warehouse/house). They didn't document where I lived before Dallas, which was Houston. I had 7 different abodes in a 10 year period in humidity roach infested h*ll-town. Before that was college. I lived in the dorm, then university apt (a great tequila story from that time), then to a house with some girlfriends, to another cooler house with some gay friends. Four moves in a three year period. Man, no wonder I feel confused and lost a lot of the time. I am not used to having a place where I can feel settled and focused. Yet.

This started another process of thinking about all the things I have lost or sold over my life. Paintings I have done. Furniture that I should have held onto. Things that have moved on to others lives that I miss, but not much really. The transitions changed me for the better in a lot of ways. I am not so attached to "things". I don't feel the need to have them around me. I am actually more comfortable without them. I prefer to not have a lot cluttering up my living space. I have a kid now and the whole process begins again. Gathering, collecting, storing and having things that you like to have around you.

Now I want to settle. Picturing my future. In my perfect home life scenario? One big comfy bed, one table big enough for eating, reading, drawing and working. Two comfy chairs with foot rests. And a big huge full amenity bathroom with BIG fluffy towels. Big closet with cubbies and storage. Swimming Pool. And a washer/dryer. And a green house. And a cottage big enough for my parents out back. I don't want a lot of furniture. I would like my home to be more like a gallery. With my paintings on all the walls.

So. In light of this, I realize that maybe the nomadic portion of my life is at an end. FINALLY. I am sick of moving. Time to rethink my desires for the future. How can I come up with my perfect home? What steps do I take to make that happen? I feel the need to nest and settle. I have found a spot that makes me feel like an adult. Weird.. REALLY weird feeling for me.

So is there an olympic sport for how to purge and pack for moving? Cuz I am SO on that! Let the games begin! Watch out BEJING!!!

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I am diggin' on IMEEM. So please if this is pissing you off? Let me know. This song fits for todays post.