Home

I've been home for about a week now and I realize how quick this month will be. I have already seen a lot of the people I missed so much when I was on the east coast, and I find myself looking at everything through a rather melancholy lens.

It is nice to see everyone, but the lack of freedom (i.e. my car) is really weighing down on me.
My Nintendo 64 is seeing a lot of love because of this lack of freedom. And while blasting through old games with jagged pixels is all well and good, I still crave more.

Basketball is my single release right now. The hoop out back practically called my name the first day I was here. It urged me to release it from its bored and rusty prison, and I happily obliged.
This is my only option, as my running shoes are still in a box in some mail carrier's bag somewhere in this crazy country. I imagine it is crammed between last minute Christmas packages frantically taped together by sweaty relatives, worrying that little Jimmy will be disappointed when he bounces down to the tree this year.

So here I sit, waiting for someone to come free me from my suburban prison. I don't mean to be quite so melodramatic, but try sitting around the house for a few days straight and try not to be a tad underwhelmed with being back home.

Though next week is Christmas, and though it is the same every year, I do look forward to pecan pie and the conversations my uncle brings to the table. Though I'm sure it will be populated with jokes about cold weather in Syracuse and how much longer everything will take there. 4 months is the answer. So May will be my next return to California. Though this time I will thankfully have my little blue baby with me.