Home?

I realize this blog is slowly becoming less cultural and more of an online space to rant about various issues; but realistically, who wants to read about a culture and art when you can read about my theories on life?! Yeah, I thought so.

So I have been home for almost 2 weeks now, and seeing other people back from uni, it seems to be the consensus that being home is nice, but strange. The novelty of sofas, double beds, cuddles from your mum and an endless supply of food wears off after a week and you start craving a good 2 litres of White Ace and some packet noodles.

My life here feels like putting on an old perfume and being transported back to a hundred memories I thought I'd forgot; it's always going to smell good, but it's almost a little too nostalgic. I have to worry that old family disputes will rear their heads if I leave my room looking like a Tracy Emin exhibition, something that at university goes scold free and is even considered endearing to my flatmates.

Everyone changes when they move away, whether it's for good or bad. And everyone talks about how they've changed, nights out, new friends, jobs, boyfriends etc. etc. until anyone who doesn't go to university, or even does, wants you to shut the f**k up.

I have come home to hear of about at least 3 people popping out infants, engagements between school friends, romances between unlikely people. It's as if when we moved away, those that didn't came together and formed new unlikely alliances. My old world feels like a foreign one and I am a tourist; it's a good holiday, but it's not completely home any more.