Homeward bound

I'm sitting in Liz's apartment in North Carolina. Liz and Leah are both out for their run, and I am... not. As much as I say I'd love to run a marathon, these gals are crazy! Inspiring, but insane. Seriously.

This trip has allowed for a lot of self-reflection. I'm coming to terms with the fact that the South is not "home" anymore. I've almost gotten killed at least three times because I tend to cross the street under the assumption that traffic will stop. I've glared at men in bars who dared light a cigarette. I've grimaced at big hair and shoulder pads. Looking at my home from an outsider's vantage point has been odd, to say the least. As I'm writing this, however, I'm reminded that I had the same reaction to all of this when I went to college from my tiny mountain town. If it's possible, I think San Francisco has turned me more into myself. I am someone who wears layers of sweaters and likes the fog. I am someone who lets my hair air-dry and then pulls it back in a rubber band. I am someone who likes *gasp* indie rock and folk music. These are not "deep" levels of my personality, but they are something that set me apart from other women in the South. They are things that I had to train myself to change in South Carolina and Houston. While I love the South, most of me is not a "southerner."

Other epiphanies from the trip: I want to stay in the Bay Area. I am not sure how long I want to stay, but the fact is that I want it to be my home. I'll always miss seasons, always miss snow, but I think it is where I need to be at this point in my life. And that might mean that playing the flute for a living is not my top priority. Saying that out loud (or, at least, writing it down) gives it a certain sense of reality that I've been fighting in my head. I don't know what I want to do. I still love playing, and I always will. Maybe that will lead to something. I guess I'm just realizing that I'm the kind of person who'd rather have a happy, fulfilling life than a particular career. Not that I think an orchestral career wouldn't make me feel fulfilled, but I don't think it's the only answer to that problem.

There really isn't any point to this posting. I wanted to get my thoughts out, and what better vehicle than the blog? No conclusions, only the thought that I am excited to get on a plane tonight and go home.