Where the heart is?

Seems October is shaping up to be my slowest month, blog wise, with a load of random warblings that don't necessarily relate to what it is I'm up to here in the U.S, and I do apologise for that, and I reassure anyone who's interested that I do still intend on writing about the Steelers game I checked out (which was an awesome experience) and all the various other stuff that's been going on that I haven't had time to write about. The problem is because my time 'management' consists of overloading my social calendar, desperately trying to squeeze in some academic stuff, and if there's time after that, throwing a blog entry up for the world to enjoy...

So anyway, I spent this past weekend in Niagara Falls, (Canadian side), and as much fun as I was having, and as cool as the whole thing was, I was really looking forward to going home. Which lead me to wonder; what is 'home' for me?

I've spent a lot of time away from my house in Ireland at this stage, with the co-op debacle in Belgium (that I haven't discussed here, but I may well one of these days to blow off steam), and the few weeks I've been here in Pennsylvania without really communicating much with my family, save for the odd phonecall.

While I was looking at the falls, I was thinking "That's kinda cool". But there was no overwhelming sense of awe, or amazement, or that I was doing anything incredible by being there. Hell, it was smaller than what I was expecting. I really only went there because I felt obliged to. What person can go on an exchange and not poke around the tourist attractions? If the arrangements hadn't been made for me, I probably wouldn't have gone. Same goes for most of the stuff I did in Belgium - I just went places for the sake of it, and after a day or two I was looking forward to going home.

So what is home?

To be honest, I still haven't quite figured that out. It's not Ireland - I know this because I can happily exist elsewhere. It's not my family or friends (both of which I do miss a pile, by the by),and I don't think it's the place where I grew up, or keep my clothes, or get my laundry done for me because I'm a lazy git.

If I would have to explain the strange 'homing instinct', I would say it tells me to return to my base of operations; where I have to be at any given time to achieve my latest objectives.

To sum it up? Home is where the computer is.