Random Musing: Home- Literally and Metaphorically

What is it that makes us feel at home in some places and feel out of place in others? Why do we feel a chill when we walk into a house we don't like or instant warmth when when we walk into places that we know and love? The same way we always reach for the clothes that make us feel safe and warm when the shit hits the fan. The same way we reach for the same dvd's to cheer us up or make us laugh. 

This week i made the hard transition from Time Bar back to the Turkey Cafe, just three months after making the journey the other way around. Why did i leave? I still can't put a finger on it now. Sure there are the various reasons that could apply to any bar in our fair city, but the real reason was, was that it didn't feel like home. I missed the constant elbows and pushing and shoving behind our tiny little bar, laughing about customers outfits with the girls while we stood at the end of the bar, Kev and his random open mic nights and our Turkey cocktails; Key Wests, Umbango's and lots of Qualude's. 

I miss the people at Time so much, but the building and me just didn't mix. I just wanted to go home. 

Which, in a Carrie Bradshaw way, 'got me tothinkin' about my sentimentalities. Like the ill-fated 'Bonobo Dress'- the gorgeous dress i got for Bonobo @ Esko and i have only worn once since then. Why? Because every time i look at it i remember how drunk i was and how i made a fool of myself and more importantly, how i could have easily fucked up everything between me and Steve. I'm skirting past the deep scars on my foot that will probably be there for life.. it makes me angry and upset every time i look down at them. 

Anyway,

I'm glad i'm home.