I am the Mist.

I know it's been a reoccurring post here on my ol' bloggy, but it's a reoccurring theme in my life as of late. The constant battle to feel comfortable.

This past weekend I was sitting in the back row at a theater watching the dancers from ADA, the studio I work for, compete in their first competition of the year. I sat there for a good hour, just by myself. I didn't mind, I really enjoying dancing, especially young dancers because I think they have so much potential and it's refreshing to see young people dedicated and putting their whole life into something. 

After a while, I realized something. As long as I sit here, nobody will know I'm here. The people shuffling in and out of the theater, they'd look at me but nobody knew me, nobody really knew I was there. To them, I'm a stranger, they don't care. But then again, to this entire city, I'm a stranger. I'm stuck in this stranger's skin.

Courtesy of Jartweb.

The day before this moment, a co-worker turned to me and laughed. She said that if she didn't have to be at the competition, she wouldn't be and here I am, voluntarily at the competition being supportive of everyone and enjoying myself. That's when I realized that I'm only a fleeting moment in these peoples' lives. In three years, they won't remember me but forever, this will be a huge part of my life. I will forever remember Toronto in fondness because I found people that made me feel accepted. But, with no negative feelings towards anyone I'm referencing, I'm like a sliver to them: stuck in the shallow folds of their skin but will soon be plucked out and forgotten about. And that made me feel truly like a wallflower (and you know my obsession with The Perks of Being a Wallflower), the word just seems to fit me. 

But it's not all bad. Over the past few years, I've become this observer. I stand off to the sit, occasionally stepping into the circle, but essentially I just observe people. I get to know names and families and personalities. I catch bits and pieces of their lives and form a whole story based on what I observe. In my mind, these people are quite real. They go to school, go to work, have friends and relationships and it's all in my mind. I live in half and half: half imaginary and half reality. If I ever do become a fiction writer, I'll sure have some good material for characters.

Maybe that's just what I'm destined to be: the Observer. Like an official career title, I'll go through life, effecting little and observing a lot. Then, when it's time, I'll document all my stories in a historical fiction kind of way, maybe a memoir (if my life is ever important enough to record). And all my characters will be based upon the people whom I have met along the way and who have changed me, even if they don't know they have or don't care that they have.

It comes this time of year, when I start becoming nostalgic and emotional. It's time to start thinking about moving, it's time to start moving parts of me while other parts want to hold onto what I have here. But the reality is is that it's time to start mentally packing, to start distancing myself and preparing to be in a strange place again. 

I see myself like a mist in the fall. It creeps in, coating everything in a blanket of distortion. Then once the sun comes up, I dissipate. You'll remember me as something that was there for a fleeting moment and now is gone.

Home.

Home. It’s where we are from. The place where we grew as people. Where we learn how to walk, talk, use a spoon, ride a bike. It’s where our families are, our childhood friends. We know the back roads, the short cuts, the best routes.

Then home grows too small. We can’t stretch our legs or run far enough away. Like Alice, we’re sticking out of every open window and pushing the roof off. Eventually, we push the familiar away, not wanting what we are used to.

We’ve spent the first 16, 17, 18 years trying to figure things out. Then we want new things to figure out, a new puzzle. If we push hard enough, we’ll break the plastic. We trip and fall into the unexplored. Diving into dark water only to find a shore on the other side. We become Lewis and Clark, exploring sites unseen.

But time passes. We get use to being away. We lose touch with who we were, where we were, who we knew. We transition, forming into a new mold, melting into the cracks. Starting a new life is easy. But making it stick is hard. Meeting new people, trying new things, going to new places, it’s easy until you have to find your way back. We become well traveled, more knowledgeable but with nobody to share with but our own minds. We try activities and foods that we would possibly never try at home. But the novelty wears off. We get updates from home, “____ is doing this,” “_____ is doing that,” and start to wonder, when will “here” become “home?”

When will the navigation turn off and the short cuts turn on?

When will the friends you try to make become the friends you’ve always had?

When does here become home?

Congratulations, America, you did the right thing.

There's something exciting about watching a country decide it's future. There's something about participating in it as well. I'm 24 and this is my second election. I'm proud to say I voted Obama and will support him no matter what happens. 

I never before got into politics as much as I did this year. Yes, I voted Obama in 2008 and yes, I voted Obama mainly because I was raised liberal and have liberal family and friends. While I knew it was the right choice, I couldn't tell you my point of view on any of the issues. I don't even think I could even tell you any of the issues. So this year, as the early months passed, I made a point to educate myself.

It all started with rape. It did, it really did. I woke up one morning to find Todd Akin all over my Facebook and Twitter feed. I remember thinking, 'is this a joke? is this guy joking?' But he wasn't. Then I started reading. And the more I read, the more horrified I became. Funny how educating yourself can be horrifying at the same time.

I have vowed something to myself over the past few months. I vowed that I will be politically engaged in the future. Where I live, I will read up on the local issues, I will understand how the community around me flows, I will keep up on national and even international events. I want to take an educated and positive stance on my future.

On that note, I would like to say congratulations to my fellow Americans. It was really a close race. I was quite nervous at time, I must say. Being in Canada, where the election wasn't the the most important thing on the news, it was interesting talking with people about it and getting a completely different view. I feel like I'm more in tune with how I feel about my country now.

We will move forward, not backwards. We recognize that things change and cannot thrive staying the same.