Comments on: Where are you from?

By: Meg K.

Meg K. — Sun, 07 Dec 2008 19:17:15 +0000

Home is where my books are…

Community is tricky; you don’t get to pick everyone who comprises the thing, because it’s necessarily a sort of package deal. It’s also usually better in retrospect. There were times in the past when I belonged to one community or another, and I do feel some nostalgia when I think about those times, but when I am being honest with myself I have to admit that I do not want to go back.

I have lived in NYC for almost four years, but I do not feel like a part of a community here. I’ve been here long enough that I think I probably could unlock it if I tried, but it’s not what I want to do with my energy right now. The volunteer work that I’ve done has been really rewarding, but it hasn’t given me any kind of sense of belonging - maybe in part because the programs that I’ve been working for are all the way in QUEENS. But it’s also probably in part because I’ve been working with ESL students, which is wonderful and world-expanding, but also makes me feel strangely lonely…That’s a whole other topic, though.

My family is in Springfield (and Chicago, now), and I feel at home when I visit, until I go out in Springfield and see how much everything has changed/stayed the same.

Maybe NY doesn’t feel like home because I have never intended to “settle down” here, and I doubt that I’ll be here, say, five years from now. But when I try to imagine where I will go next, or what the place that will be my home will look like or feel like, I just get a big blank. So I guess it’ll be a surprise.

By: m

Wed, 19 Nov 2008 11:55:22 +0000

In going back through the list starting from where I was born, where I moved with my family, where I lived on my own, I was astounded to realize that I have lived in at least 17 different homes in my 27 years.

When people ask me “where are you from?” I am forced to either make something up, or tell them honestly that “I don’t have a from.” It’s true, I don’t have a “from” in that sense of the word, as in a place where I was born and raised, where my parents and family still live.

If a community is a locale where you feel completely at home, I agree with Kelly. I feel warm and homey wherever I am when I’m with my peeps.

By: Lotus

Lotus — Wed, 19 Nov 2008 02:14:14 +0000

I have never lived anywhere else, unless you want to count the utility-less marijuana farm that my parents had (in the ’80s) an hour and a half East of Springfield. I lived in the same house for about fourteen years. I changed schools twice. For the most part, the closest friends I ever made were ones I met at the Rainbow Gathering, from Maine, New Mexico, California, and Virginia; ones that were also raised as hippies and vegetarians. We incessantly wrote letters to each other all year long. I only saw them for two weeks out of the year.

The kids here didn’t want to (or were forbidden from) be friends with kids who didn’t attend church. I felt alienated from the other children and longed to be home-schooled. The first time I changed schools, the only person who would be my friend had Pagans for parents. I tried my best to conform, but no one ever bought it. My friends in high school were mostly from other high schools. Several of the teachers I had would prompt students to lead our classes in prayer. There were sermons given in the lunch room. Religious organizations were formed on school grounds. I skipped class, I didn’t do homework, I taught myself about Dadaism and Surrealism in math class. I got drunk constantly and got myself into more trouble than any fifteen year old could handle. I did my best to distance myself from what I saw to be average people. This little goth girl had two best friends - a punk and a hippie.

Since then I’ve only ever had a few close friends at a time. I tend to keep to myself. I’ve never thought of myself as being part of the Springfield community. It’s definitely hard to be a liberal in such a conservative place. Even though I’ve been here my entire life, I still don’t feel that I am attached to this place. I’ve always relied on my friends to be my community. Is that not where people are supposed to feel most comfortable?

By: Courtney

Courtney — Mon, 17 Nov 2008 21:17:52 +0000

This is a subject frequently discussed amongst friends/neighbors/Portland transplants. It’s strange sometimes to live in a city in which almost nobody actually grew up. (So far, only 2-3 friends I’ve made are actually from the area.) Also strange: thousands of midwest transplants. I talk so much shit on “these people” who only move here because it’s cool, drive up the rent rates, shit on my favorite bars, and only hang out only with their group of friends that they moved here with. But you know what? In a lot of ways, I’M one of those people. We all move here in search of something greater, “cooler”, easier, lefter, etc. What’s the point of preaching to the choir, so to speak?
That being said, I’ve been here for nearly four years now, and that’s practically made me a Portlander. (I think they say 5+ years and you’re a local.) I love so many things about this city that I have to respect it and try to give back. I vote on local measures, shop locally, donate to the forest service, pick up trash, meet my neighbors, etc etc. I’ve been trying to think about moving lately, where I would like to go, what schools I’m attracted to, and I’m instantly sad and hesitant. Like you, I’ve moved around so much that I don’t take it lightly. I moved here searching for home, and I’ve found it, but how can I protect it? What qualities in a new city will I need to ensure the sense of “home”?

I’m tired of my gypsy lifestyle, but I’m afraid it’s now a generational trait. We just keep moving…

By: haleigh

haleigh — Thu, 13 Nov 2008 23:31:22 +0000

I’ve moved around a lot too, and never really fit in anywhere. There was Nevada (that’s pronounced with a long a and hick accent for anyone not from Missouri), Bolivar, Springfield, Philadelphia, and now this weird, weird little town in Maryland.

But now, despite the surprise of the locale, I think I’ve finally found a “community” of sorts, and it’s a pretty damn cool feeling. Last night I ran across the street to borrow a can of tomatoes from a neighbor, had to stop to talk to three others along the way, and made a date to go to a movie with a fourth. I love my neighborhood And for the first time in four years, when someone mentioned moving away, I actually felt a little sad. Go figure.

By: k

Thu, 13 Nov 2008 01:40:42 +0000

Home is where the heart is. Whether you’ve read this on a wooden plaque hanging over someone’s toilet, or heard it spouted from some moderately creepy Disney cartoon, it does carry a modicum of truth. I’ve been living in Springfield for several years at this point. Most of my dearest friends have left me far behind and I applaud their success and personal bravery. I consider the moving and the maintaining of said moved state an admirable achievement. I’ve moved and been terribly lonely and I’ve remained and been terribly lonely. Personally, I believe that there are two types of community: the community of friends and the community of comfort.
I’ve been teaching international students for almost two years now. The dropout rate for most students is relatively high in the first semester. A lot of students fail their classes and return home to their own countries because they have lost their community. Sure, they can find other students who speak their language, and they can find friends to get ridiculously drunk with, but that doesn’t necessarily provide them with any comfort. Time differences force them into talking to friends only late at night or by instant messenger. They write essays about loneliness, about how they don’t have the support that they do in their own country. If students finish the program and have the option to continue on at the local Uni, they choose to return home. They’ve lost their comfort. As much as they might love the U.S. (Chicago and NY specifically), they still return home at the end of their two year stint in the U.S.
I, on the other hand, have left and returned. I abandoned Alaska because I felt it had abandoned me long before I arrived. I felt good in New York because I was on my own. My family left Jackson in search of the comfort of family. I didn’t go to a writing school in LA because my uncle is boundary-less man. I’m relatively content with the decisions that I have made thus far, but I feel that the party is almost over, and I should leave before there are only empty beer bottles and crushed party hats for me to clean up. What I have noticed about my prolonged stay is that I don’t necessarily believe a community is where you’ve lived the longest, but where your friends are physically. I’ve felt more comfortable while traveling with friends in Hawaii, Colorado, Trinidad, Ireland, Mexico, California or just crashing on a friend’s couch in A2, than I am in Springfield sometimes. It’s not that I hate the city; I’m used to it, actually indifferent, to the general annoyances at this point. It’s comfortable. It’s easy. It just lacks the luster of friendships. I’m content to be here, but I’m lacking in any distinct community of friends. Perhaps my home is with friends. Though they are scattered, I feel more at home when visiting them, or talking to them, whether it be in another state or another country, than I do where I grew up or where I’ve lived for the last few years. I feel my community when I’m with my significant other or one of my other best friends. The locale is irrelevant.

Oh God, stitch that on a pillow.

By: Anna

Anna — Tue, 11 Nov 2008 13:43:08 +0000

As cheesy as this sounds, the University has always been the center of my community. I know that says a lot about who I am as a person, but I’m most comfortable surrounded by students of varying backgrounds and goals who are all in one place for one reason: to learn! (hence the cheese) Wherever I’ve lived, that has been my community…and as you know I’ve gone from Brooklyn to Hawaii to Michigan (and people are always apt to make comments about my Hawaii license haha). Interesting post, Annah!