Pulled in every direction
Joints creaking and groaning
Against the sheer force of the
Pain.
Incoherent thoughts
Crashing through my mind
How do I remove myself from this
Insanity.
Mouth turning upwards
I close my eyes
A sweet darkness swallowing me
Up.
The pain recedes
And so do I
Vanishing from the tight
Clutches.
When I re-materialize I am
Far above, I'm laughing
My attitude trumped your
Strength.
Next time you
Think you can force
Me to bend to your
Will.
Reconsider this choice
As I will once more
Vanish and come out
On top.
-Erin M. Truesdale, 2013
Saturday, July 20, 2013
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
Home
Everyone has a home, but what does that word really mean? Technically, it has a plethora of meanings. For instance, it can mean a physical house or place of residence. Home can also imply people with whom you live; as many people say, a house is not a home without a family inside. It can also be a place you are familiar with, a place in which you feel most comfortable. Home can be your headquarters, either where you and your friends hang out every Friday night or where a company's main offices are located. It can even be an objective you strive for, like home plate.
All of those definitions are accurate, but not to me. Home is not where the heart is, it is not where I hang my hat, it is not where I lay my head each night. It is where I was born, where I was raised, where I hale from. Home is the place I am familiar with, the place in which I feel the most comfortable, where I am most relaxed, and where I am in the most harmony with myself and my environment.
Since I've moved 1500 miles from my place of origin, I've been struggling with the concept of home. Home seems so simple, so natural, so comfortable that I don't think many people will understand this conundrum unless they've moved a significant distance from their place of birth. In a way, Arizona is home, and here's why. Generations ago, my ancestors settled this place. The city in which I reside currently, Mesa, was settled and founded by my ancestors, Mormon pilgrims who traveled via wagon train across the country. I live a mere miles from where most of them are buried. It's amazing to walk on the same soil they did a couple hundred years ago and to gaze upon the same mountains they did. As awesome as this is for me, being a history lover and all, it still doesn't feel like home.
My plans to move back to my home to Minnesota have been foiled indefinitely due to some funding issues. This setback has really torn out my heart, and it is making me wonder: Can live here in Arizona any longer? A part of me says no, but in a way, I think that is just my attitude towards it. I never meant to stay here for any extended period of time, and now here I am, almost two years later, still in Arizona. I haven't made one friend and most of my family here doesn't seem to want to embrace me because I am not Mormon. If I got over this whole weird dichotomy of 'home' I might be able to stay here and make some friends if I had to... I just feel like I would be a traitor to my real home if I did.
Do you see where my dilemma lies?
I've been miserable being in Arizona for one reason. Okay, two if you count the heat. But the main reason is I have no social life. I miss going out with people once in awhile to see a movie or grab a beer. I'm so used to being alone now, I feel like I'm conditioned to feel anxious about it. It's a weird downward spiral I have been experiencing, and I want to reverse it. If I'm unable to make it to Minnesota, I better start being social here before I really go loopy.
Unfortunately, I'm going to have to resign myself to transforming this place into 'home' at least for the time being. It's all in your attitude about a place. I've spent most of my time hating Arizona, but if I told myself it is familiar (which by now it is, at least partially) and comfortable (I guess it is, if I stay indoors nine months out of the year) and relaxing (that might be stretching it) then maybe I can make this a temporary home.
-Erin M. Truesdale, July 10, 2013
All of those definitions are accurate, but not to me. Home is not where the heart is, it is not where I hang my hat, it is not where I lay my head each night. It is where I was born, where I was raised, where I hale from. Home is the place I am familiar with, the place in which I feel the most comfortable, where I am most relaxed, and where I am in the most harmony with myself and my environment.
Since I've moved 1500 miles from my place of origin, I've been struggling with the concept of home. Home seems so simple, so natural, so comfortable that I don't think many people will understand this conundrum unless they've moved a significant distance from their place of birth. In a way, Arizona is home, and here's why. Generations ago, my ancestors settled this place. The city in which I reside currently, Mesa, was settled and founded by my ancestors, Mormon pilgrims who traveled via wagon train across the country. I live a mere miles from where most of them are buried. It's amazing to walk on the same soil they did a couple hundred years ago and to gaze upon the same mountains they did. As awesome as this is for me, being a history lover and all, it still doesn't feel like home.
My plans to move back to my home to Minnesota have been foiled indefinitely due to some funding issues. This setback has really torn out my heart, and it is making me wonder: Can live here in Arizona any longer? A part of me says no, but in a way, I think that is just my attitude towards it. I never meant to stay here for any extended period of time, and now here I am, almost two years later, still in Arizona. I haven't made one friend and most of my family here doesn't seem to want to embrace me because I am not Mormon. If I got over this whole weird dichotomy of 'home' I might be able to stay here and make some friends if I had to... I just feel like I would be a traitor to my real home if I did.
Do you see where my dilemma lies?
I've been miserable being in Arizona for one reason. Okay, two if you count the heat. But the main reason is I have no social life. I miss going out with people once in awhile to see a movie or grab a beer. I'm so used to being alone now, I feel like I'm conditioned to feel anxious about it. It's a weird downward spiral I have been experiencing, and I want to reverse it. If I'm unable to make it to Minnesota, I better start being social here before I really go loopy.
Unfortunately, I'm going to have to resign myself to transforming this place into 'home' at least for the time being. It's all in your attitude about a place. I've spent most of my time hating Arizona, but if I told myself it is familiar (which by now it is, at least partially) and comfortable (I guess it is, if I stay indoors nine months out of the year) and relaxing (that might be stretching it) then maybe I can make this a temporary home.
-Erin M. Truesdale, July 10, 2013
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