Today I tried writing.

I did not succeed.

Home, considered.

Whoops...! How about that? It's not the last post after all.

Just to be clear, I wasn't going to post but since it's today and it's almost a year to the day since I last posted, here goes.

This post is about the way we make for ourselves. The path that we trod toward our invisible futures sometimes hopeful, often discomfited but ever marching forward, even if our physical selves haven't managed to rise from the couch in three days.

I sit here, still at Megabucks Industries. And while I still have the occasional sour episode, I'm trying very hard to make the best of it. After all, it could be so much worse. This place, with all it's nooks and crannies chock full of the unhappy and deadened, is, I must admit, a type of home:

It bears the marks of many hours of my habitation-papers, tissues, pictures, inhalers, old sneakers and socks and the odd jacket or two.

It houses people who I've grown up with and grown used to over the past 15 years.

I am so used to this place being my destination, I end up driving there unconsciously when I'm lost in thought on the freeway.

As the provider of my health care, my pension and my 401K and the site of my financial institution, this place literally is the seat of my entire financial and wellness universe. Without it, and I have been without it for a scant 8 months when I considered a different path, I flounder and strangely feel a strong pull back.

The only thing that doesn't make Megabucks Industries my ACTUAL home is the lack of private bathroom, stocked kitchen and comfy bed.

I guess it's fashionable to hate our place of origin sometimes...as a way of individuation. But I'll confess, home, much maligned, can also be a peculiar place of solace. In a way, that's what this place has come to be for me.