Quote of the day...er...week...umm...hey, look, a quote!!

Tibi gratias agimus quod nihil fumas.

It says "...freedom of...", not "...freedom from...".

Nolite te bastardes carburundorum!

"It's amazing to me how many people think that voting to have the government give poor people money is compassion. Helping poor and suffering people is compassion. Voting for our government to use guns to give money to help poor and suffering people is immoral self-righteous bullying laziness. People need to be fed, medicated, educated, clothed, and sheltered, and if we're compassionate we'll help them, but you get no moral credit for forcing other people to do what you think is right. There is great joy in helping people, but no joy in doing it at gunpoint." - Penn Jillette

Friday, November 5, 2010


Home is where the heart is.

Home is where you hang your hat.

Home is...more than a cliche.

I live in a house. I call it "home". It is my home in the traditional sense - it's a structure wherein I dwell and keep all my crap priceless family heirlooms. The house does not belong to me, but it's mine. Maybe some day I'll explain that.

But is it...home?

I think home is more than a receptacle for junk, a structure.

Much as I love Casa de Crazy (drafty, energy inefficient, not-green, monstrous cracker box thought it be), and its location...it's really just a house.

Home, for me, isn't a place, it's a feeling.

Home is with the Evil genius, Someone, and Mum... When we are together in one place, whatever that place, I'm home. Home is within the circle of Someone's arms, or the Evil Genius's small embrace, or the comfort of Mum's calm, sure voice when I call her in distress. It's the purring of happily nestled cats, content to pass the night curled up around me on the bed, nesting in the blankets. Home is in the small, fluttering, insistent movements of the Sprout as she wriggles and shifts, kicks and jabs, lets me know she's there and has taken up Irish dancing to pass the time.

Home is an abstract sense of belonging, of love, of comfort and solace.

It's devilish hard to define, isn't it? Where's home, for you?

1 comment:

HermitJim said...

Home is indeed a hard place to describe...but I'll know it when I find it!

I've been told that this is my home, but it's NOT mine! It's just a place I live right now...!

I think when I do find "home", I'll get that special feeling inside...and the little voice will say "now, this is home!"