Never is a promise and you can't afford to lie

Four years ago I made a list I entitled "things I know for sure about myself and my personality." I remember making the list and the title fully convinced that what I was writing would never change. Not surprisingly though somewhat ironically, seven out of eleven of them aren't true anymore.

You know that phrase "you are your own worst critic"? I think for most people, that's true. If you realize you screwed up, you're usually the last person to forgive yourself. But I think it's interesting how the lack of forgiveness seems to balance out with the fact that you're also usually the first person willing to give yourself another chance.

In 10 words or less, my thoughts on...

- Hurricane Katrina: An unspeakable loss only made worse by pretentious overexposure.

- School: Senior foods is undoubtedly the best decision I've ever made.

- Colleges: Northwestern's inane essay topics are really bringing me down.

- Health: I'm working out again. We'll see how long that lasts.

- Politics: I just can't bring myself to be passionate about it.

- Movies: Supersize Me made me deathly afraid of becoming obese.

- Real Estate: My mom's been pricing our house to sell next year.

So, I realized a little while ago that after my mom sells our current house, there will no longer be a place that I particularly associate with "home." My dad's house would naturally seem to fill that position, but after years of mentally associating my mom's house with "home" and my dad's house with "dad's house," it doesn't quite seem to fit. It occurred to me that kids who moved around a lot when they were younger probably never grew up considering any one place as their home and thus most likely couldn't relate, but after residing in the same neighborhood since birth I'm finding this oncoming lack of home base a little disconcerting.

And now for a totally applicable Garden State quote:

Andrew: You know that point in your life when you realize that the house that you grew up in isn't really your home anymore? All of the sudden even though you have some place where you can put your stuff that idea of home is gone.

Sam: I still feel at home in my house.

Andrew: You'll see when you move out. It just sort of happens one day and it's just gone. And you can never get it back. It's like you get homesick for a place that doesn't exist. I mean, it's like this rite of passage, you know. You won't have this feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself, you know, for you kids, for the family you start, it's like a cycle or something. I miss the idea of it. Maybe that's all family really is. A group of people who miss the same imaginary place.