Thinking about home

What's the term used to describe missing your culture? You know, moving far from home and missing all the little traditions and habits of that place you left behind? Well, I have that.

Sometimes I feel like a broken record, "I love it here, but miss home." This seems to be the story of my life for the past year and a half. But lately, it's been on my mind.

At work, the office space that we rent had some extra rooms that we weren't using, so we decided to sublet them. The people who ended up moving in, are Russians. They have been living in the United States for many years, but the accent is audible. After a snow storm, one of these men walked in and asked me, in that thick Russian accent "Do you know why it is snowing? It is snowing because I just washed my car!" Ah, dry Russian humor. But then, every once in awhile, he will come around the corner and tell me that today is the equivalent of mother's day, back in Russia. Or that today is a holiday commemorating (fill in the blank). And I got to thinking. Obviously they left Russia for the seemingly cliche reasons, and that this life is better than the one they were leading. But regardless of all that, I'm sure they really miss those little daily familiarities that only fellow Russians could relate to.

We grow up with those little traditions, the ones that you don't realize are anything special, until all of a sudden they aren't present in your life. And the reason why we long and yearn for a place is generally not one major thing, but instead, many little things all added together. Another aspect of that, is the ability to share and talk to others about it, who know exactly what you are talking about! Luckily for me, there are people here who know my family and lived in Santa Cruz. So when something reminds me of something or someone, I can generally lean on them in that moment. But there are so many more moments where I don't have anyone to share with. Back home, we do it this way, or that way. And besides, who wants to hear me drone on and on about how we do things back home, when they really don't care in first place?! I guess part of me wants them to care. Wants them to have the ability to transport back to Felton, to see things through my eyes, meet my family and friends and see how special things are there. But since that invention has not actually been introduced, that wish of mine won't be coming true any time soon.

And then I think about my future. People keep asking me how long I plan on staying here. I honestly have no idea. But if I do stay here long term and if I do start a family, my children won't get to take part in the amazing childhood that I did. They won't get to run around barefoot in the forest, or grow up in the same amazing community that I did. Why am I even thinking or worrying about this? I don't know. I suppose these feelings will just have to be muffled by my frequent trips back home, and the realization that I am essentially leading two lives now; the California me and the Nebraska me. Part of my life will always be in California, no matter where life takes me. So I guess I just need to suck it up and stop being so emotional!

Where else, but in Nebraska!

Overheard at a gas station, male customer to male clerk.

Customer: "Hey, do you know if it's supposed to snow soon?"

Clerk: "I haven't heard, but I think it may. If there is one thing I've learned over the years, its that I would make a great weatherman! I'm mean, what other profession can you make $100,000 a year for being wrong 90% of the time?!

Customer: "Well, I fit the prerequisite! I'm wrong 90% of the time!"

Clerk: "That's cuz your male!!"

Around every corner is something to make me smile, and this one surely did!

I think I can!

I could never live in such a cold climate. I could never stand the humidity. I could never live away from my family. I could never ____ (fill in the blank).

Faced with the possibility of change, many of us panic and convince ourselves that we couldn't cope under those conditions. That we would be miserable, and thus do not even attempt. I'm sure there's a psychological term for this, self-fulfilling prophesy perhaps, and I'm sure we are all guilty of it. We think we know ourselves. We think we know our limitations. But the factor that we don't take into consideration, is that we are a lot more adaptable than we realize. And there's a lot more toughness in each of us.

I never saw myself leaving Felton, and especially never leaving California! I would miss my family. I would miss my friends. I hate the heat. I don't do snow (flip flops become a dangerous shoe choice in light of impending frost bite possibilities). And who would I know in a far far away place? I had convinced myself before I even gave myself a chance to entertain any sort of idea. I closed myself off. And to this day, I'm really not sure what it was that really changed that, but I am so thankful, to whatever it is!

Finding myself away from home at Christmas time has gotten to me thinking about home, and about the journey I have been on. Sometimes I can't believe I am here. The temperature is dropping, and I am adapting. Some days the wind howls at you, on your way to the car, and you can't describe how cold you are. Then the next day, it's no big deal. In the heat of the summer, you can't believe how hot it is, and then the next thing you know, it's not even noticeable, or the reaction is, 'well, at least it's not as bad as it was yesterday!'. Life is no paradise all the time, but we humans are much more capable than we give ourselves credit. There are a lot of things I didn't think I was capable of, and here I am, half way across the country from my family, doing some growing up, and spending my first Christmas away from home.

Phone calls from my nieces and nephews, sisters and brothers, mom and dad are becoming difficult these days. I miss them. And that yearning is especially hard around the holidays, when family is meant to be together. But I will survive, and everything will be ok. If I had stayed in California, would my close relationship be the same as it is now? Or would I take them for granted and not see the gem that I truly have? If I am capable of this much, what more can I handle? What else can I overcome? I keep seeing all the little ways in which we all 'get used' to our surroundings, and those obstacles don't seem like obstacles after all. Half the battle is actually sticking your toe in the water, then once you do, you realize you were so stupid for getting yourself so psyched out over something that was not bad at all! So instead of the 'I could never' mantra, I have taken on the 'well, let's give it a try and see what happens' attitude. I've also made it an informal personal mission to say yes to nearly every request of others, to hang out, to help out, whatever. After all, life would be so boring if we just sat around doing the same things we are overly comfortable with!

Friends and Cherry Blossoms

As the season changes around me. As the summer fades into fall, and the leaves turn an array of brilliant reds, yellows and oranges, my mind starts to wander. In this part of the country, the changes in seasons are easy to notice and happening all around you. How could you miss it?! And just when you get used to one season, the next one starts creeping in. And as those leaves fall and blow, signaling the onset of winter, I am also caught up in changes in my life and the changes in those around me. And I can't help but notice the extreme similarities between friends and seasons.

Friends breeze into our lives, much like the cool winds of fall. And they can move on, just like the dog days of summer. Sometimes due to a falling out. Sometime as a result of a physical move. Or sometimes as a result of a change in lifestyle (becoming a wife, mother, etc.). We grow up with a tight set of friends who know us inside and out. Then after graduation and real life begins, shifts take place, and our priorities and daily habits change. Those friends take different paths, and our daily lives don't have as many shared interests or commonalities. So, we make new friends and the cycle continues. Do we dislike those original friends? Not necessarily. It just so happens that we went to different colleges, or work full time on the opposite end of town and have different time commitments and can't devote as much time as before.

And the friendships that we do keep long term, develop in a sort of seasonal pattern as well. We meet. We get to know. We got closer. We develop. We possibly encounter a set-back or problem. And the friendships that last beyond that storm, take on special characteristics. We have times of extreme closeness, and times away. We don't stay the same person, nor do our relationships with each other. It's a constant influx, pushing us back and forth. Just when we think we know who we are, or just when we think we know who our true friends are, something comes out of no where and forces us to see things differently.

Whatever the reason for a 'shift' or fading out of a friendship, I am realizing that the reason it gets to me, is that I have this subconscious ideal that a friend will be a friend forever! And that friendship will be just as strong and fantastic as it was in the best of times. So when that doesn't happen, and someone moves away, my unrealistic hope of 'having' them forever is dashed and I get discouraged.

It's a rather bittersweet reality. Because just when I get discouraged about a shifted, or moved away friendship, another one miraculously appears as a perfect 'replacement'. Coming and going. Back and forth. Just when life seems to 'settle down', something rustles it all up. Things don't stay the same for long, and at times, I sort of squint at the future, reminding myself to stay hopeful despite seemingly sad circumstances, because surprises are always hiding right around the corner! And before I know it, the vibrant colors of spring will be popping up everywhere!

My OWN place!

I've grown up. I've moved up in the world. I'VE MOVED INTO MY OWN PLACE!!



This was a huge step for me. It's the first time I have ever signed a lease for an apartment. And it's the first time I have ever lived alone. I always thought that I would not like living alone, but I was wrong. I'm on my own schedule and can do what I please. But it almost seems like I am doing more, and gone more often now, then when I had a roommate. And I just feel so different, so accomplished. Moving across the country was a big step, but moving out on my own almost seems even bigger! I feel that my goal to make a change in my life, started with moving to Nebraska, and has continued in this big feat of mine. My family has been an amazing support for me. Sending me care packages and items for my place! What would I do without them?! And I wish that they lived a few blocks away, so I could show off my new digs, and see their faces, of coarse!

After looking at a few different apartment complexes, I discovered a few things about myself. I decided that I don't want to live in a place that causes me to choke from the smell of previous smokers. I decided that I enjoy living in a place where I feel comfortable walking around in bare feet. I also decided that I want to pay money for a place that I actually want to spend time in! This place fits those basic requirements and even over did itself! It's new. It's clean. It's adorable. It's got a gym/pool/hot tub/bbq area/in-unit washer and dryer. It's in a great part of town, with a convenient location to the places I go to most. And it's my own!

So here are some pictures. Enjoy.






I bit the bullet and bought a brand new couch. My first real piece of furniture. But I still have more furniture to acquire. The basics are covered, but over time, I plan to furnish the place much more than it is now. The t.v. and dvd player I acquired for free, along with many channels of cable!

Walk-in closet, oh how I have missed you!!

Balcony, furnished by mom!

So there you have it. As always, I am equipped for guests!! It just so happens that this milestone took place a year after moving out here, almost to the day! When I think back, it feels like I have been here for much longer than that! Like I was always here, and California is just a distant memory, a day dream. My latest response to the out-of-style question I can't get seem to get away from; 'Why in the world would you move from California to Omaha?!?' has been, 'Well, I was ready to spread my wings!" And this, is me spreading those wings even further. And so, to answer the other common question, how long do I think I will be here, in Nebraska? Well, I signed a year lease, so at least that long. And if this says anything, I need to get going in order to finish the Husker vs. Oklahoma State game! I don't see an end in sight. I am here and truly loving it!

Coasts and Cornfields

Going home is filled to the brim with conflicting emotions and thoughts. My homesickness was recently appeased with a long weekend home. But the whole time I was there, I couldn't stop analyzing how and why I was feeling the way I was. Sure, everyone seems about the same as I left them. Their characteristics, their jobs, location and life in general, but my relationship with them has shifted. Love and friendship are still present, but the closeness necessitated by physical proximity is diminishing. I call. I do my best to keep up, but friendships are rooted in the little, daily happenings. In knowing that one story about the time they stood in line behind a bum in the grocery store guzzling a whole gallon of milk on a hot summer day. And being able to recount and laugh about them.

When time passes, and you are physically away, knowing about those little moments gets harder and harder. I can find out the main categories about people by asking on the phone, but am I really gonna sit on the phone for hours with each of these people each day and ask about every moment of their day? No. But if I were hanging out on their back porch with them, then those things would come up.

This is especially true and difficult with the nieces and nephews. I have lived in the same house as them for their whole lives up until a year ago. I knew all the stories, all the words they said funny, and all the embarrassing stuff they won't want me to tell when they are older. And even though I call often, I am not there to reinforce my relationship with them. Will they forget who I am? In a few years, will they even remember the time that I lived there? I have a close relationship with them now, but will that slowly diminish the longer I am away?

I was happily eager to get home to Omaha at the end of my trip. That's a good thing, right? It means I am happy to call this place home. But feeling bittersweet about the "two" homes that I have. The friends and family in two different places. As I adjust to my surroundings here, by making new friends and establishing myself, I can't help but think about what is 'left behind' me and wonder what I am missing out on. But then I am reminded of all the new adventures that are still in store for me here, my story I am creating every day, and that thrills me.

The Game.

Nothing can prepare you for your first Husker game. Nothing.

This past weekend, some friends had an extra ticket to the Husker game. I obviously jumped with excitement as I told them I would LOVE to go! Going to a game has been on my list of things to do, and just hadn't gotten around to it. Upon hearing the news, the co-workers were jealous and felt the need to prep me, excite me, and get me all primed for this once-in-a-lifetime experience. But living here for almost a year, seeing games on t.v., watching this state's obsession, non of it, could have prepared me for what took place.

It was an 11AM game, so we got the move on early in the morning, in anticipation of major traffic and difficulty parking. I of coarse sported my all-too-necessary Husker shirt and hat, because to wear anything else would be blasphemy and most likely draw an unwanted scene. We parked and walked. When I say that all you can see in every direction is red, it is not an exaggeration. Literally everywhere. Seas and seas of red. The stadium holds an ongoing NCAA-record 306 consecutive sellouts, which began in 1962, and the second runner up is no where close. When full, Memorial Stadium holds about 80,000 people, which is more people than any Nebraska city except Omaha and Lincoln. But many more than the allotted ticket holders join the crowd to tail gate and watch on big screens outside. Even parking close to the entrances is only sold to a special select few, who get the honor and privilege to tail gate so close. Each of these cars is required by law to be; red, have Husker flags either panted or hanging, be in perfect condition, and sporting Husker fever loud and proud. Lounge chairs, massive t.v.'s, impressive bbq's, huge tables with spreads of food all adorn this sacred area.

Now, since it's impossible to just walk up to the ticket counter and buy tickets (since tickets are sold out years in advance) you have to have season tickets in your family for years, or you have to know someone who does. I am in the latter category. Our tickets were six rows up, at the 40 yard line (I'm told that you have to donate a mandatory amount to the school on top of the ticket price to even get seats this good!). Spectacular seats. I'm really not a huge football fanatic (don't tell anyone here that though!) but what I experienced on that field that day, changed me.

The band, cheerleaders, baton twirlers, and the like, put on an impressive pre-game show. Then, the tunnel walk, also known as the goose-bump enticer. As the players get ready to come out of the back, a patriotic and adrenaline boosting video is played with music that makes you believe you yourself could go out and battle the other team. The players rush onto the field and the game begins. The weather was beautiful and sunny, as we were packed into that red stadium. The crowd goes through the rhythm of chats and calls, all consisting of an enormous amount of clapping. And the noise level never goes down. Never. Even the energy is loud. I've been told that you don't find this type of energy anywhere else but in college football. A mother and her 6 year-old daughter sat behind me and cheered as if their life depended on it. The mother shouted out suggestions to the players. The daughter was frustrated with plays. And I realized in that moment, that children are literally bred into this frenzy. She knew more about football and the Huskers than I will probably ever know! And in that moment, you are convinced that the whole country is rooting behind you and watching this game. It's hard to believe that many people in the U.S. have never even heard of the mighty Huskers!

I wondered if the real reason why people in this state are Husker fans is due to the commradery of it all. The chance to band together and root for the same thing. To unify under something so dear and yet so simple. It's a feeling unparalleled, cheering with 80,000 other people for a single team. Cheering with people who you most likely don't see eye to eye on other major issues, but in football, you are united. It's overpowering and almost addicting. I felt that I missed out on attending a school like this to join ranks with fellow students behind the almighty football team.

The opposing team put up a fight, but didn't quite stand a chance. An impressive battle ensued, and the crowd was pleased. If they don't win, the whole town goes dark, quiet, and depressed. Luckily they won, and the town kept its spirits high. But let's be real; people come here to do more than just watch a football game. In some ways, it seems secondary. I had many moments of culture shock. The wheels were turning like crazy in my head the whole time. I was trying to understand and put it all together! And as I walked away from the stadium that day, I felt like a Husker. I was also told that now that I've been to a Husker game, my blood bleeds red. Good thing, cuz I'd be worried if it didn't!

A New Season Begins

It's that season again. The season when all of Nebraska turns red, literally. The season when all the focus is on Husker Football. This past Friday, I was asked if I knew what today was. Um, Friday? Nope. Someone's birthday? Nope, It's Husker Eve, which is a bigger holiday than even Christmas Eve! Apparently, the day before a game is Husker Eve, and the only thing anyone can focus on is game day the next day.


Although there is no way to 'forget' about Husker football around here, it does loose the center-stage-attention for half the year. It goes into a sort of hibernation. It's a cycle. At the end of the season, the State is riding on a high, and literally start the countdown until the next season. The high starts teetering off with each passing month. The talk then turns to new recruits, new strategies, who's going to play which position, and how many points we are going to win each game by! Then about half way through the 'off-season', the anticipation starts building again, slowly. 2 or 3 months out, people have a mental countdown to game day. New players names are memorized, along with their stats, history, and performance. Fans are speculating who is going to play what, and giving their two-cents on who should play what! Radio stations turn into soapboxes and sounding boards, and the state turns into little kids on Christmas morning, staring at those presents for weeks, about to explode.

Then before you know it, it's Husker Eve! The office is abuzz all day. Who is coach going to put in as QB? How will the defense hold up? Where are you watching the game? Thousands of people make the trek to Lincoln, even if they only tailgate in the parking lot or near the stadium. And the scene is just a sea of red for as far as you can see. Inside the massive stadium, the only color allowed is red. It's actually impressive. But if you can't make it down there and want to watch the game on T.V., be prepared to drop $40 on the pay-per-view fee!! I made the mistake of going in public on game day, in a non-red shirt. I was stared at, and judged I'm sure, by everyone else in color appropriate attire! I felt like an outsider, because the whole town was wearing red, not even kidding! I don't know how many little girls I saw in mini Husker cheerleader outfits, like it was no big deal and totally normal! Note to self, sport the red Husker shirt on game day from now on!

Oh Riggins...

The whole scene reminds me of the show 'Friday Night Lights'. For those of you who haven't seen it, start today! It is an exact replica of the Husker frenzy I just described, only it's about a high school team in Texas. There is just something about small towns bonding together on the one thing they have, football. Nothing much else is going on, and this one sport is something to rally behind and unify everyone. It's a precious situation, and I just love to sit back and smile at the whole thing!

It's Official. I Am A Resident!!!

Punching the clock early. Gotta get out of work before 5 to make it to the DMV before the 6'oclock closing time. Rush home. Take dinner to friends with newly born child. 5: 15. Crap, I think I need to be there by 5:30. Rush off to the DMV. Can't. Drive. Fast. Enough. (Do you still get a speeding ticket if you pass a cop on the way to the DMV before it closes?)

As it turns out, each state allows a 30-day grace period after a move, to register cars and acquire a drivers' license. It is obvious that I have over-stayed that grace period by many, many months. And when the month of May ended, I really started worrying every time I got in my car. Not only do my plates still say California, but now they are expired, even on California standards. I need to get to the DMV. No really, I NEED to get to the DMV. That personal nagging finally got to me, and this past week I got serious about fulfilling my good-citizen-obligation.

Last week I drove across the street from work, to the closest DMV to finally get my drivers' license. I breezed in, had my picture taken (after being told I look like Maria Shriver, being ruthlessly questioned on my decision to move from CA to NE, and bumping into someone from my bowling league, yes it's a small town) and tried to register my car, only to realize I needed to go to a different DMV for that. Bummer. Oh well, no big deal. I am on a mission to get this done. At least I am half way there.

Today, I realized that the DMV is open late on Wednesday's only, so I rushed. I will admit. I was stressed. I couldn't get there fast enough. Why? Well, I was anticipating a California DMV experience, and that thought alone is enough to raise blood pressure! I park. 5: 31. Crap. I really hope they don't actually require you get there a half hour early, as posted! I rush in. What do you know, NO LINES! I guess I'm not in California any more!

Hi, I need to register my car. Here is the postcard I received from you guys. Hello! Sure, no problem. We can help you. First you need to go down the hall and have a VIN inspection. I proceed down the hall, still stressed. An older gentlemen greets me with a joke and asks me for some identification. As he walks out to check my car, he jokes about how clean my car is, why I came from CA (common question, followed by rehearsed response), and essentially wiped away all previous stress. Inside, he asks for proof of insurance. Crap. I don't have a current copy! I swear I had one! Oh no. I'm gonna have to come back again. I'm not going to be able to register today! Ah! He suggests having my insurance company fax it over. I call. They say it will be there in 5-7 mins.! Perfect, cuz it's 5:45! He insists on walking me back over to the ladies that will finish the process. He chats with the ladies, goes and gets my faxed insurance info, walks it over to me, and leaves me with a joke and a kind word. 5 mins later, after chatting about California and how the lady's nieces is from San Jose, she walks me over to a different lady. And, 2 mins later, I write a check out and have my plates in hand!

There was never any doubt that I moved to the right place, or that this move was the right decision. But any doubt that may have been possible, completely vanished after the most amazing DMV experience of my life! I walked in, and 30 mins later, walked out with license plates. That would have never happened in California! NEVER! There would have been an hour and a half wait, only to realize you need proof of something that is impossible to have proof of, only to go home, come back numerous times, until they have what they need and decide to accommodate you!

I drove home grinning, giddy. Wow. Did I choose the right place or what?!!!

Yes, that is me wearing my 'Made in California' T-shirt

College World Series, Continued

A call came in, actually it was a text, yesterday afternoon. The message? Hey, extra ticket to the championship game tonight, want to come? Um, of course! I finished my work day in anticipation, and raced home to change.

Now, any other year, going to this game wouldn't be as big of a deal. I mean, sure, it's the championship game, best out of 3, of the college world series. But this year, this day, was a BIG deal. Turns out, Rosenblatt Stadium, the stadium that hosts the series, is being torn down after this years' championship. With the Henry Doorley zoo right next to the stadium, it made sense to tear down the stadium and turn it into a parking lot for the zoo. Sad? Yes! Afterall, the CWS has been played at Rosenblatt for over 60 years! A lot of history has taken place on that pitchers' mound, in those seats, and on that field!

As I sat in my seat, watching the game, I couldn't help but think about the history of the field, and in turn, my own history. About how, instead of my grandparents and my parents regaling stories of 'the way things used to be', I will be the one telling future children about how 'this parking lot used to be a fantastic baseball field, and every year for over 60 years, the college world series was played here, and I took part in history by attending the championship game at the last series ever played!' I felt a sadness for a field that, in all honesty, I have no history with. I didn't sit in the bleachers as a kid with my dad, clenching my mit in the hopes a foul ball would come my way. I didn't grow up in Omaha, with this stadium as a main feature on the skyline. And yet, I mourned the last few games played on this historic field.

The stadium was filled to capacity. And more than just a regular game, there was a somber and real mood in the stadium. We all knew what was in store for this stadium, but that night, at that game, we pretended that all was right in the world. The batters batted, the fielders fielded, and for one more night at Rosenblatt, baseball was played.