At times i wonder if I could make a life here in Taiwan. If I’m missing out on some grand opportunity by moving home. If maybe I should just move to Taipei and try and five head first into the creative scene. Maybe. Maybe it would work. But maybe not. It feels like it wouldn’t. Like screwing in a Philips head screw with a flathead driver. Some difficulty. Some crunch. Not ideal. But I also wonder if any place really is ideal for me.
Tonight, I’m thinking of the North Shore. It’s not ideal for me. I know this. I could never live there permanently again after leaving for college at eighteen. Rather, I was thinking of the comfort in the familiarity of the place. How, if bored at night – maybe nothing’s going on, maybe everything is and I just need to get away – I could just drive down the roads. Willow. Green Bay. Hibbard. Hill. On autopilot. Thinking. Or trying not to think. Listening to music. Singing along. Talking to myself. Alone, while gliding through the world. An electron in its cloud.
If I were hungry, I’d drive through the Steak ‘N’ Shake on Willow. Then drive, shoving french fries in my mouth at red lights. Singing all the lyrics to Daft Punk’s Discovery.
Is it dull that this is what I miss the most? Pretty much everything else I left in America, I can get here – some things are easier than others. TV: easy. Friends and family: a Skype call away. American food: harder when you live in Keelung, but easily available in Taipei.
But I can’t get that night driving here. Drifting through the wide, flat, prairie-turned-civilization roads flanked by strip malls and soccer fields, enclosed in my own private world – like a spaceship – that is the front seat of my car. Is that my home?
Home is the person, place, or thing you think of when you’re uncomfortable and you want to be comforted. Agree or disagree?
I think of my old car. Dead and sold now, but I think any car would do.
Car. Night. Open roads. Music. Fast food.
Is that my home?
It’s good I’m homesick (carsick?). It means I won’t be as sad leaving here.