Dear Journal,
I am feeling homesick tonight.
Which is a bit ironic, as I'm typing this from my bed in the house I was born and raised in - a house I've lived in for 26 years of my life, with my family.
Yet, there's this haunting feeling of emptiness and longing for a "home" within me. Not that where I am right now isn't home (uh oh. Things are getting seriously messy when I start using double negatives, you say?) - It is. I *am* home. Yet, I'm still homesick, feeling incomplete and missing that sensation of familiarity and belonging to a place.
I miss my apartment in Orono. The three-bedroom apartment in Maine, 10 minutes from the University of Maine. I miss Orono with its glorious solitude and blessed calmness. Ironically, I hated the isolation and silence the first few months of my moving to Maine, back in 2006. Hailing from a busy, noisy and crowded metropolitan city, Maine was a huge shock - and Orono, a tiny peaceful college town, where the median age was around 22 years. Which, in simple turns, translated to a town full of, and centered around young adults.
As the average redneck saying goes, you couldn't swing a dead cat without hitting a (usually Caucasian) tweenage college student.
Having come from a predominantly (hell - almost exclusively) Indian society, with a lot of brown-skinned Indians speaking a variety of tongues, I suppose it's not an exaggeration to say Maine, with its abundance of geriatric Caucasian folk (and friendly ones too - which was something I wasn't expecting, to be honest), did give me a bit of a culture shock. Add to that the fact that among all the 15-odd Indians on campus, I was the only one speaking my language (my cousin's family lived in the next town, but that didn't count for the daily interactions), and my being your average introverted bookworm, things were rather.. um.. depressing for a while.
I hated Orono from the beginning. I missed the noise and crowds and the stores of the big cities. I hated that I couldn't see a lot of people or a lot of traffic on the streets. I missed seeing familiar faces or hearing familiar languages. I hated that I didn't have a lot of choices when it came to food, or entertainment, or shopping. I hated that I didn't have any old friends around, and that I had to make new friends from scratch (not an easy job for an introvert like me, I'll say). Luckily, the Indian friends (and roommates) were/are a very friendly bunch, and despite my initial reservations, became good friends. That's not to say I was an asocial dweeb in the desi community - My first few months in Orono, I never left my apartment except to go to the mall or the stores or college. I rarely visited the other Indian friends, and always avoided the regular Indian gatherings.
I honestly don't remember or understand why I avoided making new friends. I suppose I've always been that way. I hate crowds, and hate being the center of attention (ironic, considering my chosen profession). I am usually uncomfortable around new people, and easily tire around noise. So, it took a lot of convincing and goading by the friends, and after a long while, I ended up meeting all the desis on campus, and became an occasional member of the gang - unofficially christened the PIGS (Poor Indian Graduate Students). I don't remember who coined that nickname - I'm a proud PIG.
Whenever I think of Orono (and Maine), I go on these emotionally-exhausting nostalgia trips in my mind. I remember my favorite places (the rocks on the Stillwater river, behind the Stillwater Apartments.. the dock with the wooden bench, at the riverside campus parking lot by the Steam plant.. or my favorite seat by the windows in Fogler Library, across the street from the Memorial Union (It was a fantastic place for people watching, sitting in the comfortable couch, warm sunlight wafting through the window panes, even on the cold winter days), sitting in the Union, a plate of hot cheese sticks and a cup of tea in hand, watching the students.. Then, there was the darkroom at Carnegie Hall, where Prof. Grillo let me audit a film photography class - the almost zen-like experience I learned while learning to develop film. Another favorite place was the biking/ jogging trail that led from the campus to the University Housing area.
I miss all these spots - places I found a lot of comfort in - places I could go any time of the day (or sometimes at night), where I could just relax and lose myself. Beautiful places where my mind dropped all distress and angst - places where I could breathe - and smile. These were the places where I could forget all my worries for a while, where nothing else mattered, where I was content and at peace with the world - even if it was for a brief while.
I miss the occasional trips to Bar Harbor and Acadia National Park - Two of my all-time favorite places in the world. Gorgeous in the fall, and beautiful the rest of the year.
I miss Maine so much, it hurts.
I am feeling homesick tonight.
Which is a bit ironic, as I'm typing this from my bed in the house I was born and raised in - a house I've lived in for 26 years of my life, with my family.
Yet, there's this haunting feeling of emptiness and longing for a "home" within me. Not that where I am right now isn't home (uh oh. Things are getting seriously messy when I start using double negatives, you say?) - It is. I *am* home. Yet, I'm still homesick, feeling incomplete and missing that sensation of familiarity and belonging to a place.
I miss my apartment in Orono. The three-bedroom apartment in Maine, 10 minutes from the University of Maine. I miss Orono with its glorious solitude and blessed calmness. Ironically, I hated the isolation and silence the first few months of my moving to Maine, back in 2006. Hailing from a busy, noisy and crowded metropolitan city, Maine was a huge shock - and Orono, a tiny peaceful college town, where the median age was around 22 years. Which, in simple turns, translated to a town full of, and centered around young adults.
As the average redneck saying goes, you couldn't swing a dead cat without hitting a (usually Caucasian) tweenage college student.
Having come from a predominantly (hell - almost exclusively) Indian society, with a lot of brown-skinned Indians speaking a variety of tongues, I suppose it's not an exaggeration to say Maine, with its abundance of geriatric Caucasian folk (and friendly ones too - which was something I wasn't expecting, to be honest), did give me a bit of a culture shock. Add to that the fact that among all the 15-odd Indians on campus, I was the only one speaking my language (my cousin's family lived in the next town, but that didn't count for the daily interactions), and my being your average introverted bookworm, things were rather.. um.. depressing for a while.
I hated Orono from the beginning. I missed the noise and crowds and the stores of the big cities. I hated that I couldn't see a lot of people or a lot of traffic on the streets. I missed seeing familiar faces or hearing familiar languages. I hated that I didn't have a lot of choices when it came to food, or entertainment, or shopping. I hated that I didn't have any old friends around, and that I had to make new friends from scratch (not an easy job for an introvert like me, I'll say). Luckily, the Indian friends (and roommates) were/are a very friendly bunch, and despite my initial reservations, became good friends. That's not to say I was an asocial dweeb in the desi community - My first few months in Orono, I never left my apartment except to go to the mall or the stores or college. I rarely visited the other Indian friends, and always avoided the regular Indian gatherings.
I honestly don't remember or understand why I avoided making new friends. I suppose I've always been that way. I hate crowds, and hate being the center of attention (ironic, considering my chosen profession). I am usually uncomfortable around new people, and easily tire around noise. So, it took a lot of convincing and goading by the friends, and after a long while, I ended up meeting all the desis on campus, and became an occasional member of the gang - unofficially christened the PIGS (Poor Indian Graduate Students). I don't remember who coined that nickname - I'm a proud PIG.
Whenever I think of Orono (and Maine), I go on these emotionally-exhausting nostalgia trips in my mind. I remember my favorite places (the rocks on the Stillwater river, behind the Stillwater Apartments.. the dock with the wooden bench, at the riverside campus parking lot by the Steam plant.. or my favorite seat by the windows in Fogler Library, across the street from the Memorial Union (It was a fantastic place for people watching, sitting in the comfortable couch, warm sunlight wafting through the window panes, even on the cold winter days), sitting in the Union, a plate of hot cheese sticks and a cup of tea in hand, watching the students.. Then, there was the darkroom at Carnegie Hall, where Prof. Grillo let me audit a film photography class - the almost zen-like experience I learned while learning to develop film. Another favorite place was the biking/ jogging trail that led from the campus to the University Housing area.
I miss all these spots - places I found a lot of comfort in - places I could go any time of the day (or sometimes at night), where I could just relax and lose myself. Beautiful places where my mind dropped all distress and angst - places where I could breathe - and smile. These were the places where I could forget all my worries for a while, where nothing else mattered, where I was content and at peace with the world - even if it was for a brief while.
I miss the occasional trips to Bar Harbor and Acadia National Park - Two of my all-time favorite places in the world. Gorgeous in the fall, and beautiful the rest of the year.
I miss Maine so much, it hurts.
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