The night has come to hold us young

"The thing about dreams is, it's not where they're going, it's about making the decision to get on"
Okay, I'm quoting Tom Hanks. I realize that may lack credibility. But it stuck with me today - that has to mean something, right?

Well, I'm at home ... whatever that means. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm at my mom's house. Was dad's house 'home'? No. And I can't really define why not. Three years ago, I would have defined home as the place where I had my own bed to sleep in, and although it's a nice sentiment, I don't have a bedroom at my mom's either. So obviously, the age-old wisdom that taught us, "home is where the heart is" obviously has some merit. Maybe I'm not home here, either. That's a depressing thought, because I'm so constantly aware of the temporary circumstance of living in Kingston, that it's hard to create physical roots there. My room is a resting spot between stages ... I'm using it to get to the next phase of my life. How long will I feel like I'm in transition like this?

I love airports, by the way. I love to travel. I love to share a space with a community (however short lived) who will never share the same space again - hundreds of different people with hundreds of different stories to tell. I could be anyone to them - and I enjoy the idea that I could just as easily be jetsetting across the country to meet up with my movie star boyfriend as I could be paying the obligatory family christmas visit. It feels exotic. I often wonder as people walk in and out of my life, what their stories are. What's important to them. What they're thinking and feeling and desiring. Who they love. Who loves them. There's so much humanity in an airport - it's a micro-world that I would be content to drift within for days at a time. Some people find airports lonely, because everyone is going somewhere, or saying goodbye to someone, but I prefer the 'we're all in this together' attitude. Think about Dawson's Creek. In season 6, Pacey and Joey are unwittingly locked into a Wal-Mart (or similar mega-store) together overnight, forcing them to share their deepest secrets, and thus, fall madly in love with one another (or at least finally recognize what we all knew from the end of season five). Call me an idealist, but I think that the most magical things can happen when people are thrust together in unusual situations.

Okay, before I go, I think it's worth mentioning that my non-boyfriend and non-relationship have progressed well beyond the point where either of us could be kidding about the way we're feeling, and the words 'official' may-or-may-not have come up in conversation tonight. I'm going to keep that one to myself for now, just because it's too amazing ... just because I'm flying too high to make any sort of intelligent comments about it. My weekend in toronto was a lot more amazing than I could have anticipated it to be - from the first time I saw him walk out of the general shadows outside of the royal york and kiss me, to the blunt and uninspiring (but oddly romantic way) he presented me with two of the best gifts I could imagine ... to the agony (do I mean pleasure?) of not kissing ... playing a sick game of hard-to-get with eachother, prolonging the inevitable dive into absolute bliss ... to watching my first ep's of seinfeld (I know ... don't jump on my back!) ... to rocking out and relaxing with his friends ... I don't know if writing about it is really going to do it justice. I'm going to unpack, have some toast, sleep in ... just exist in this world here in Vancouver, and enjoy spending time with my mom. I'm still exhausted from the physical abuse I put myself through in the last two weeks of class, but I'm excited to work out tomorrow, have a long swim, and start to get my wrecked-and-loving-it self back into top form :P