Santa Fe by Samantha Crain
So I'm headin' back to Santa Fe
I look back then I look away
Way that that blue sky fades
Feels like I'm runnin' away
Babe I know you see
Just how hard it is for me
To unpack my clothes and shoes
And stay right here with you
I don't know how to
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6cssvT1W4c8
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Wanderlust
"So this is the new year. I don't feel any different."
For the last few years I've been using that line to start off my first writing of the new year. Thanks to Death Cab for their brilliance.
Truth is... I don't feel any different. And I say that in the best possible way.
My year started with leaving...
I left my job. Not by choice. I was handed my termination notice (with no better way of saying it, my contract ended) handed the notice on Christmas eve. Thanks for that. So I cried. A lot. The first week of January I worked my last week. Then I left my job, which got the ball rolling for things to come.
Next, I left my boyfriend. He wasn't so great, so that was that.
Finally, I left Canada. Within a week of suggesting a trip to China the tickets were bought. Within three weeks of purchase we were on a plane. Two months on the road. Two months out of a red backpack. Two months about not caring about what time it was. What date it was. What I looked like. What I smelled like. I let my guard down. I loosened my boundaries. I still ate in a restaurant even after I saw a rat scampering across tables. I saw poverty. Extreme poverty. I felt thankful for what I have. I am so thankful for that experience.
Then I came home.
Home to the Truth and Reconciliation Commission National Event. I shared my writing with Elders. With Survivors. I came home to my culture. One I had abandoned because I was sour at the first two things I left that year. But I came home to share the story of my Papa with people who wanted to listen. I brought those words home with me from Cambodia. I got over some of that bitterness while away.
Coming home helped even more. I got a new job. One I love. I'm 24 and doing what I love. I went with my gut... went on my trip... and still got my job. That just showed me I chose the right path.
Now, I am six months in. Six months until the end. Being home for six months only makes me want to leave again.
So I guess I do feel different. I feel sense of longing.
I feel wanderlust.
For the last few years I've been using that line to start off my first writing of the new year. Thanks to Death Cab for their brilliance.
Truth is... I don't feel any different. And I say that in the best possible way.
My year started with leaving...
I left my job. Not by choice. I was handed my termination notice (with no better way of saying it, my contract ended) handed the notice on Christmas eve. Thanks for that. So I cried. A lot. The first week of January I worked my last week. Then I left my job, which got the ball rolling for things to come.
Next, I left my boyfriend. He wasn't so great, so that was that.
Finally, I left Canada. Within a week of suggesting a trip to China the tickets were bought. Within three weeks of purchase we were on a plane. Two months on the road. Two months out of a red backpack. Two months about not caring about what time it was. What date it was. What I looked like. What I smelled like. I let my guard down. I loosened my boundaries. I still ate in a restaurant even after I saw a rat scampering across tables. I saw poverty. Extreme poverty. I felt thankful for what I have. I am so thankful for that experience.
Then I came home.
Home to the Truth and Reconciliation Commission National Event. I shared my writing with Elders. With Survivors. I came home to my culture. One I had abandoned because I was sour at the first two things I left that year. But I came home to share the story of my Papa with people who wanted to listen. I brought those words home with me from Cambodia. I got over some of that bitterness while away.
Coming home helped even more. I got a new job. One I love. I'm 24 and doing what I love. I went with my gut... went on my trip... and still got my job. That just showed me I chose the right path.
Now, I am six months in. Six months until the end. Being home for six months only makes me want to leave again.
So I guess I do feel different. I feel sense of longing.
I feel wanderlust.
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