I haven't been home since I left 12 years ago in 1999 and although I've been very happy, I still feel out of step with life here. I don't fit and, in an effort to try to make myself fit, I've become almost as serious and limited as nearly everyone else here. When I do finally meet like-minded people, they move someplace else.
If I could just go home for a visit once in a while! That's just not possible, though. Hell, I can't even afford to drive the 56 miles to Tulsa much less fly to California. I'm now beginning to wonder if I'll ever see home again before I die. It's becoming an important goal for me.
Of course, my finances and my health don't make it any easier. To be completely truthful, my life has been reduced to me sitting here either in or on this bed, looking out the window at a world in which I feel like an alien and an exile. No diversion, no going anywhere, no going out, no nothing. Just sitting here writing and writing and writing because there's nothing else. I used to be vital! I used to go out! Do things! Meet people! Now I just sit here and act like the big old baby that I am when I get like this.
It's not that I don't like it here—it has its charm—but I miss the smell of the ocean air. I miss the particular light that California has. I miss looking around at my own stomping grounds and knowing every street, alley, and back road because I've used them my entire life.
Crap. I'm just homesick. Here's a video I just made (you may need to be logged into Facebook to see it, I don't know).