I miss home.

As you may or may not know, I am from Oregon. And, the longer I'm here, it becomes more and more clear: I am definitely an Oregonian. Through and through.
A couple of mornings ago, it rained (for the first time since I moved here), and I got to walk to work in it. I was literally smiling the entire time. When I realized the seasons weren't really going to change here, and I wasn't going to experience a fall this year (my favorite season), I went through a bit of shock. The inability to make hot tea and sit in front of a fireplace, or wear lots of cozy layers without getting too warm, still gets to me. I miss driving by big fields, I miss the air that smells sooo good, I miss the abundance of Evergreen trees, I miss the laid-back Northwestern attitude.
Apparently, adapting to living in a completely different environment than you've lived in your entire life isn't as easy as I thought.

But then I remember how great all the faculty are here, and how much I'm learning, and I can't help but be glad I chose to come to Point Loma. Even if I do feel a bit displaced.


Adventures are a logical and reliable result- and have been since at least the time of Odysseus- of the fatal act of leaving one’s home, or trying to return to it again. All adventure happens in that magical space, wherever it may be found or chanced upon, which least resembles one’s home. As soon as you have crossed your doorstep or the county line, into that place where the structures, laws, and conventions of your upbringing no longer apply, where the support and approval (but also the disapproval and repression) of your family and neighbors are not to be had: then you have entered into adventure, a place of sorrow, marvels, and regret.