I miss (in no particular order): the crew, pizza, weed, arts and crafts with anna&carla&jo, poutine, montreal, tam tams, nerd swords, adam&lisa&parker, open mic nights, barbecues at josh's, video games, getting drunk and singing, jesse&yontz&yates&jp&kari&katiedid, manhattan, boston, dan&arianna, mr. mikes, homer&stew, photo walks, random wandering, english signs, french signs, road trips, and my sisters.

And yet, despite that list, I'm not homesick. Obviously, I could pull out the argument right now that it's because I don't have that sense of "home" tied to any place right now, but that's not totally it. I am a homeless transient in the world. I've got a wanderlust in me. I've got good friends here. I've got someone to hold, someone who makes me happy. I've got a job that is pointless as all of my past jobs, but as usual I'm surrounded by good people.

I've got a lot to miss from home (by that I mean the entire continent of North America), and I've got a lot of things that make me happy here. It's a strange feeling, but I've got no reason to complain. It's the story of my life.