cross-post! oooh.

I’m cross-posting from, what I think is, one of the most unlikely places for this to come from. Facebook.

I also find it unlikely that I have a Facebook page. Then again, I’m finally starting to get more relaxed about having a findable presence on the internet (and not in an "encouraging stalkers" sort of way), so maybe it’s not so unlikely.

Anyway, since today (that would be Tuesday, despite the fact that it is after midnight and so this is going to be stamped with Wednesday’s date) came and went without me getting to what I’d intended to around here, and since this is already written due to me finally filling out more information than my name and email address on Facebook and having inspiration strike (this is a horribly structured sentence, yet I’m doing nothing to change it), cross-posting it is.

I loves you! I hope your week is going splendidly, thus far.

Confronted, once again, by the psychology of movement.

It usually only happens when I’m faced with filling out some sort of profile. Or, really, when I get asked the question, "Are you from around here?" But it does happen. These moments where I realize growing up on the West Coast has definitely impacted me to the core. "Coming of age" in Texas forever changed my life. And living in Upstate New York, for what will be 8 years in September, if I haven’t moved away by then (far, far away, ideally), has likely had a part to play somewhere, but nothing I’ve come to see a need to lay a passionate claim to. But all of it combines to leave me unwilling to claim a hometown.

Growing up in California irrevocably shaped how I process a location, and I’m still amazed and grateful that "progressive" and "laid back" can coexist without conflict, but I left before every inch of landscape became a part of me, so it doesn’t feel exactly like "hometown" territory anymore.

I learned to drive in Texas. And shop. And live. And love. I packed a lot into my five years there. And even though so many of the definitive moments that set the course for who I am today came about there, the actual location doesn’t feel like it’s "mine" now.

I’ll readily admit it probably won’t be until I’ve had some time away from it that I’ll come to fully appreciate New York. I’ve packed quite a bit of transition into my time here, as well. Some of it with unpleasant starts, though always finding a wonderful finish. Maybe that’s my resistance to this place. That, on numerous occasions, it seems it starts at "smooth like sandpaper" before it winds up "smoothed by sandpaper." And until you wind up at "smooth" the rest usually doesn’t feel that great.

Or maybe it’s the psyche of the East Coast that always seems in utter conflict with my inner California girl. While I understand the need for "settlers," my heart is with the "pioneers," and the two rarely coalesce. A fact that can be painfully obvious at times.

Whatever the reason, I think I’m going to keep leaving the "hometown" section blank for awhile.