No way home

For the first time this week, I felt that Kingston wasn't my home anymore.

I've talked about this previously before, in that seeing friends graduate and depart for local and global destinations made feel a bit nostalgic about good times past and a sense of place and dynamics shifting from what I know.

This week, however, I've definitely sensed as if I've overstayed my welcome, like the times when you're with your friends at the bar and instead of asking you to leave because it's past Last Call, they just start putting up the chairs around you instead.

Everything is a little duller. The buildings are a little bit more faded, the people a faceless sea of collared shirts and cellphones. I can't even bring myself to care about the AMS or Queen's Rector elections anymore. Even Golden Words, a staple of sunshine on Queen's Campus, is less humourous than years past. Kingston and Queen's just seems like a pastiche of what life should be like, but instead, is unimpressive and not amusing.

The last 2.5 years has not gone the way I had expected to go, and perhaps that's been a part of it. It's funny how life throws curveballs at you, and you know it, but you still swing at it and miss. Guess these are signs that it's time to be traded to a new place and try it again (cripes, I've been reduced to baseball metaphors...). The question then is, whether this is it. A cyclical montage of good times and bad, without context or script, until one runs the complete gamut and it starts over again.

Nothing gold can stay, Robert Frost said. I guess neither can I.