Homes.

I have another new home but one where I feel comfortable. Much has changed and I hope to start feeling okay about writing regularly sometime soon.
I have goals but I just learned that announcing them means I'll be less likely to do them (psychology research tells you things, who knew?) so I'll keep them quiet for now.

Achy Heart

I've had a tight chest for three days. My usually hypochondriac mind is trying to tell me I have a heart disease of some kind but I know that's really not the case. Last week I made a pinky promise with my one close friend here at school. It was a pinky promise of a plastic less kitchen, a TV-less world, many aqua Ball Mason jars, a cheese fund, wine, and clean and safe spaces where we could relax our bodies and speak our minds. And I'm ecstatic about all of those things, I really am. At the same time, that pinky promised held a lot more then our little pinkies can actually hold. It means that I've committed to staying here, at the new school, in the new town. I still feel disconnected and unmoored here and now I've obliterated my option to go home.
Maybe the tightness in my chest will dissipate as I learn to accept the choices I've apparently made.

Food Like Product

I don't know the last time I had a completely unhindered relationship with food. It was probably about ten years ago. I could grab food anywhere, whenever I was hungry and eat it with gusto without anxiety about what it would do to my body and reading all the labels. Oh, to eat a piece of pizza...
In the last ten years my relationship with food hasn't been so carefree or healthy or comfortable. Over the last year I was able to repair my food wounds a little bit, mostly by discovering comfort foods (gluten free pasta smothered in melted goat gouda anyone?), eating a lot of greens and eating more meat and "junk foods" (gluten free pretzels and cookies in reality). I felt better, and I felt warm and cozy. I felt sturdy. There were places to grab onto on my body, a few curves to hug.
In the last two months at college my food life has taken a drastic dive. The dining hall claims to feed vegans and Celiacs but they're certainly trumped by the gluten free, dairy free, egg free girl. Therefore, I eat a lot of salad. A LOT. And a lot of cantaloupe and pineapple. My legs are polka dotted with silver dollar sized bruises, in startling shades of purple and yellow and dark blue. My pants slide down my legs without a belt and I can fit things into my bras. I'm hungry. Hungry enough to throw myself across my narrow dorm bed and moan for a few seconds while my hand rests on my growling stomach. I can hold off hunger with sleep as I always have but that strategy only works so long. The problem with all this hunger is that it makes me hungry for other things.
I'm hungry for comfort and spiritual stimulation and learning new things and hugs and sweet songs and whispered words and fall breezes and stability.
But really, a hamburger would be the first fix to all these desires.

Thermochemistry

It's a lovely idea, I agree. It makes me think of snuggles and freezing cold feet searching out warm bottoms on couches and a love's legs late at night. Heat goes toward where it is cold. When you open up the fridge the cold air doesn't come out but the hot, sticky Virginia air might rush in before you can grab your goat cheese, or your almond butter, or even if you can't decide and shut the door and wander. I'd love to write this all down on an exam, but instead I'm stuck staring at a computer animation of a piston-cylinder with too many hyperactive molecules for my sleepy, mucus filled brain to understand right now. Instead that sluggish organ keeps wandering away from the thermochemistry fridge to thoughts of home.
Oooh, in 20 short hours my body can be cuddled up with my sweet dog, while my mind rests and my lungs breathe in the sweet hometown air. The leaves are changing there and apple cider and chesnuts will be in the fridge as always. They'll follow warm, life changing meals prepared from a seemingly empty fridge by my mama.
College makes me grow and feel uncomfortable and awkward and lonely every day but I can be thankful that it makes returning home just that much sweeter. Five years ago P and I went on a walk and talked about home and what it felt like, where it was, and what it could become. Then, all we wanted was out and away but these days, as we bushwack our paths to adulthood we crave the rolling mountains of the Blue Ridge, the red bricks downtown, our cats, and our mamas.

Gulp.

Realised today that P and I are falling into some weird routine and I'm not really sure how I feel about it. All I knows is that when I get pictures of him being a tall, skinny soccer loving goof I feel a little less lonely while I walk downtown.

Missing...

Missing the Mudlings hardcore... this latte was hands down better y'all.

Latte Spurred Thoughts...

I've escaped from campus yet again, but this time I've reined myself in a little and stayed in town. I'm sad to say that it is with pride that I know I haven't run home again but I also know, given the chance (and a working vehicle) I would be home in an instant. Last night I sent P a list of the things I missed, "People. The Mountains. Food. My sister. My dog. Even my mom. You.". He sweetly reminded me that my life was amazing enough to have all those things to love, and to miss.
This seems to be my daily struggle-- I am so thoroughly thankful for the multitude of amazing friends, made family, and things that are in my life but I'd really like to tote them around with me. Perhaps life would be easier this way, though my bag would probably need to be even larger and heavier than usual. Making new connections isn't easy, it's exhausting. So, I've escaped for a little liquid energy to warm up my shivering body. It's foamy and less bitter than at home, but still familiar. Hopefully school life will soon follow the path of the latte.