Not only did I arrive at the airport insanely early, but my flight has been delayed by two hours; thankfully, the airport has free wifi and I have a number of books with me. I have been reading Neuromancer by William Gibson this weekend and there is a post about it in the works; meanwhile, assorted thoughts.

I half-wish this plane I will eventually get on was bound to Edinburgh. I have been gone for too long. I have seen too many places, been to too many of my ‘homes’ that my present ‘home’ is getting fuzzy. I want to be back already and remember, have the stability of my daily routine. But there is also that perfectionist fear that once I return to Scotland, I will have to resume work right away, and what if my topic isn’t good after all? I am ever reminding myself that it is a journey. The topic is supposed to evolve.

The concept of ‘home’ is such a relative thing. Inevitably, I still refer to my parents’ house as ‘home’ because I lived there for most of my life and 90% of my library is there. But the Old House in SC is ‘home’ too, in a way, an ancestral home, connection through history and blood. Being with Kelly felt like home, and Albuquerque felt like home because the Williamses were there. But that little town by the sea, where my new friends and colleagues live, where I work and have my favourite haunts; that, too, is ‘home’ (the ‘right one’ according to some of my friends). Here I am sitting in an airport, wanting to go ‘home’, and all of the above will be correct. If I were to take a more abstract view, this earth is not my home at all; and yet, in the ECUSA Rite II liturgy, this earth is our ‘island home’. Contradictions, paradoxes: thus is life. Perhaps this blog is aptly named after all.