coming at you live from Rapid City, Michigan, where I'm inhabiting somebody else's house for fall break. It is my boyfriend's great grandparents old house, I think. It's a cabin that his lumberjack family built, I think. It is kinda home-ish/homey in a way, I think, but in a way that doesn't coexist completely with my own idea of home. Sometimes I find its atmosphere relaxing and sometimes I find it incredibly stressful. I haven't done much art-making here... or much making in general, but it does feel good to shift spaces for a few days. Not that I need to be productive somewhere to feel at home. Sometimes I find quite the opposite is true for me. I have such an urge to visit my real home in Omaha. The OG home. The Goldberg home. The Wendy and David Goldberg home. I'm thinking a lot about this impulse we have to get away, to travel and vacation to places that have been designed for us by someone with an individualized picture of home. Sometimes it fits and sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes it fits a little bit, but not as snug as we had planned. The OG home hasn't always fit just right, but mostly it has because it taught me how to size up other home spaces. The transcendentalists talk a lot about travel and how people expect travel to bring them happiness, but how the stress of daily life travels alongside us wherever we go, unless we strip ourselves of the unnecessary and the unintentional. I agree with this. High expectation for vacation usually comes with at least some disappointment. My sister has a rule that you can't get excited for something until twice the length of the actual event. So if you're going on vacation for 3 days, you can't get excited for that vacation until 6 days before you leave. This makes some sense to me too. I always find "don't get your hopes up" to be a calming prevention mechanism. I recently read some NPR article about expectations and limited consideration for how reality works. We never quite learn to predict (in full) the patterns of how reality will work. Anyway, I want to go home home. I haven't been home home (to Omaha, Nebraska) since July. I'll go for Thanksgiving. And I know it won't be totally, overwhelmingly awesome like I'm planning. And I know I'll be stressed that I'm encouraged to celebrate mass murder and disenfranchisement. And I know the plans I made to go out to the bar with my sister won't be as pleasant as I'm imagining. There will be conflict, but I'll stand my ground. Something about self in relation to home is really solidifying. Like, each time I go back I get to determine which things I learned there, from the people, the environment, the contradictions, are still sticking, which things I'd like to pick back up, and which things I'm ready to shed. hmmm. That's all for now I think. Gonna go help Nathan make stuffing for dinner. Maybe I'm just excited about the food (jk, Mom).