Where is home anyway?

"What is 'HOME' to you? No, seriously, what is "home" to you? When that word enters your brain, what images does it conjure up?"

My bed comes to mind when I think of home, but where exactly, I don't know. I've moved way to many times to call a place home. Home is wherever I sleep at night. Home is wherever my family is. I don't remember the first ten years of my life, so there goes my time in Perú. Japan was never really "home" per se. Then I moved here to California. First place I lived was Santa Ana, Orange County, then we moved to another county and we must have moved at least six more times in the last 5 years. Now we are moving again.

Don't get me wrong, I don't mind moving. I hate the labor of course, but I get bored easily and moving is change and that's always interesting. I have learned to only keep, as Baloo would say, the simple bare necessities. I got rid of my bed because that's a bitch to move. I sleep on my mattress and I'm hoping to take it one step further and get a futon. Other than clothes, shoes, and books; I don't have much of anything else. I don't buy decorations, no photo frames on my desk, no teddy bears, nothing on the walls. . . and I like it that way. I will save all of that for when I find myself at "home" which I hope it will be New York.

Yeah, yeah, the girl that wants to move to New York and make it big. Well, I am the girl who wants to move to New York, but not necessarily make it big. I want to be happy. Maybe happy will be big, maybe it will be simple, whatever shapes it comes in, I'll take it. I greatly dislike California. I want to be able to WALK to a store, or a cafe. I don't want to have to get in my car and drive miles to get to the closest commercial area. I think, THINK, I would like New York. The variety! The difference! The chaos! The diversity! I HATE the fact that California's staple uniform seems to be tanned skin, blond hair, jeans, t-shirt and flip-flops. I love dressing up, I love crazy fashion, and at the same time, I feel inhibited here. If I do dress the way I want, meaning crazy high heels, houndstooth cropped jacket over a little black dress and if I'm feeling audaciously bold maybe a hat, people ask me "where are you going?" or "why are you so dressed up?" So just because I'm not wearing jeans and flip-flops then that means I'm "dressed up?"

What a bunch of bull!

"Home is not always where you are from, home is where where your soul fits."