A House, A Home

I moved my dwelling place last week to a brand new flat, my third in Aberdeen and the fourth place I have lived out from my parents since that fateful autumn in 2006 when, on a whim, I decided to move out. I can’t really remember asking about it, or saying that I wanted to, but it just kind of happened slowly, like a car crash you are watching happen in slow motion. Anyway, discounting a small period where I moved back in the summer of 2007 (or “flux” as I call it) I am independent and have been for over 3 years.

This isn’t a big deal I suppose, because there are people I know right now who lived away when they went to university and studied their whole degrees in their own places, be it halls or a flat. I stayed at home for 3 years and was better for it I think, saving money, being close to my friends and basically have a cushy time of it in real terms. It’s not surprising though that this prompted my wish to leave.

This last week however, I jumped back home for a few days as a sort of holiday from work and Aberdeen that coincided with two excellent gigs (Mars Volta and Modest Mouse) and a night out, and this repatriation reminded me of why I am glad to have moved out – not because I dislike being at home – indeed, far from it – but that it’s no longer my home. It’s “back home” sure, but I live in Aberdeen and that’s where my job, friends… life is. It’s where I have set up shop and, much to my 2007 self’s probable annoyance and confusion, where I will probably be for a while yet.

There is a strange feeling though that Aberdeen might never be my home in reality, and that Glasgow is slowly slipping away in it’s homely feel. For example, this weekend I didn’t know the bus times, nor why some shops had changed hands, forgot how to use the one way system, and most incredibly, actually forgot the names of the streets I used to walk down religiously, every day, every week. This kind of knowledge slipping out of my grasp has made me think that maybe, even if I embrace the city of Aberdeen further than I have already, I still can’t make it feel like it’s mine and that I am losing a place I can call home. I say I am “going back to the flat” and that I am “going to my parents” and suddenly I have little place I can call home.

The liberating thing is that I actually think I like this state of affairs. It means that I can uproot and just move wherever I want, to work with anyone, to be in any place. It means that the list of places I want to work and live is not a unattainable dream list, but one that, if I put my mind to it, a check list of things that I want to do – without the worry of a place that I own or have to pay for. When people ask me “Why haven’t you bought anywhere yet, you must earn enough” my answer is simple:

I’m not sure I want to have found a home yet. There’s too much I want to see and do before I root myself to one place. And, more importantly, I don’t think Aberdeen is that place anyway.

Places I want to live and work in, in order.
Paris
New York
London
Amsterdam
Japan (loosely the country)