Home [[April 3, 2011]]

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“What is this force that drives us!? We are crazy! Crazy people. Who give up house and home in search of house and home!”

At any given point in any given conversation, there are actually two conversations happening. 1] the conversation you are having with the other person. 2] the conversation going on in your head about the conversation you are having with the other person. Occasionally, when you are talking to yourself, you are still engaging in two conversations.

Last week, I did DC in 24 hours. It wasn’t supposed to go that way. I had originally planned to spend the weekend nearby, but it didn’t happen. So I left for DC at 3:30pm on Sunday and returned at 3:45pm on Monday.  This was a total of 500.9 miles. In my car. I said, to myself, ‘You, Joy, are crazy.”  I knew the show was not “big” enough to cover travel expenses or to even be worth the drive, but felt just as foolish cancelling. 10 hours prior to the show, before leaving my house, my toilet overflowed into a 1-inch pool of water, spread evenly across my bathroom floor…heading for the hallway carpet. It was a a problem that started on Saturday (or Friday, arguably) and grew out of control come Sunday morning. As the water began to rise, there was some type of angst paired with relief that came over me. Anxiety from not knowing how to stop the flooding. And the relief of being let “off the hook” from a 250-mile drive that evening. And I began to see one good excuse after another to cancel my show. Maybe the excuse of having to wait for the plumber. Or the excuse of not having enough time to get rid of a sewage smell and then drive 4 hours. Or maybe (if planned right) the excuse of slipping in the puddle and being too sore to leave my house – probably the most legitimate excuse of the three.  And as these conversations were happening in my mind, the reality of  ”Joy, this is what you do. This is how you live. You brought this on yourself”, was also spoken.

Everything I need, in the material sense, is in my car most times – my keyboard, my laptop, my Bible and my journal. Clothes are easy to acquire…as are food, books, and things to keep me warm…like blankets. And shoes are of course a non-essential. *smile*  On Monday’s drive home, I realized (and have always know) that I didn’t necessarily need to go home…ever.  My friend, Brooke, has a song that she introduces as the explanation of what “Home” really is. It’s called “Yours & Mine“. The idea behind the song is that you could basically never really belong anywhere as long as you were “not belonging” with the right person. You each bring what you have to the table and you create a home. I’ve been a firm believer of this for a very long time…and wrote a song about it called “Time“.

This itch is a hard one to scratch but Death Cab For Cutie has said it best:  ”If you feel just like a tourist in the city you were born in then it’s time to go. And then find your destination. There are so many different places to call home”  When asked where I’m from, my answer has nothing to do with where I live. It has everything to do with where my heart is. Right now, my heart is with the many friends and fellow musicians who have come through my house in the last 3 weeks – Elie, Rob, Eleanor, and Heather to name a few. As Rob unloaded his guitars, hand drum, sleeping bag, luggage, and food into my living room one night, he looked at me and said, “best life, worst living.” And my heart was sad for a bit.

This blog was written to the soundtrack of “Poison & Wine” (The Civil Wars), “You Are A Tourist” (Death Cab for Cutie), and “Yours & Mine” (Brooke Annibale).

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