I have returned home. While in Kingston, I had 2 homes, and I knew this. My sensation of home was split, but now, 95% of my home lies back here in Burlington. Home is where the heart is. I don't know if I miss my Queen's life. I don't think that's the right word. I don't miss it, because I like where I've returned to, and know that I can't go back, not yet, and I think that's apart of me loving where I am right now. I was thinking earlier of how no one at home will really fully understand my Queen's life, or experience(s). The people on my floor and I share a bond that no one will quite comprehend. It's about understanding one another, and observing mannerisms, and vocabularies, and interests, and habits, and opinions, and thoughts, and the way we all work overall, individually and collectively of course. I think I like that I can separate lives like that. They don't overlap. And even if I make an attempt at making them overlap, it just won't work. Oil and water. They're both so pretty, and so necessary. Why mix it up?
I've been trying to unpack for about three hours, but in the process I just keep diving into old collections of things. Like boxes, and sketchbooks, and bags and corners and crannies. I'm still a little under the weather from yesterday too. All I ate yesterday was breakfast with Kate before moving out of residence, and then an ice cream bar and an Arizona on the car ride home. Stupid me did not eat lunch, and by the time dinner was ready at Meagan's, I was so over hungry, dehydrated, and over exposed to the humidity and sun that I couldn't eat, so I threw up and went home. I stayed in bed last night from 8:30pm until about 5:00pm today, so I suppose I am a little out of whack. I should get legitimate sleep, food, and fluids, and refuel.
I think I'm going to see Caribou with Steph tomorrow at the Phoenix. I've been craving to see them since about grade 10 actually. Three years later, the time has come. I think we're meeting Warren and his pal too.