Diary of a Nomad

For as long as I can remember I've been a bit of a nomad, beginning with my childhood every other weekend trips to my father's house. I would pack a bag every other weekend and head off to my "other life." Later, in my teen years, I left my parent's house to go off and sleep a night or two at various friend's houses, roaming all over town with a backpack. It wasn't really by choice, my parents kicked my boyfriend out (he had been living with us for about four months), and in true teenage fashion, I decided that if he wasn't welcome, I wasn't either. That lasted about a month, and then I came home.

A few years later I left for college and the big city, and once again, took my backpack with me. I technically lived in a 2 bedroom apartment with 3 other girls but found myself, spending most of my time sleeping in friend's dorm rooms and staying out all day and night roaming the city with my backpack.

Eventually, I met the guy who was to be my boyfriend of nearly 4 years and began wandering over to his part of town. I would pack up my backpack and take 2 trains, a ferry, and a bus to get to his neighborhood. I would spend the night there with him and then in the morning I'd get up go to classes, head home, and the next night I'd do it all over again. I hardly even saw my roomates.

The following school year I decided to get an apartment with a friend of mine. The apartment wasn't ready for us yet when I got back to the city for school, so I lived with my boyfriend for a month. Then, once I finally got moved into the apartment, I was taking 3 trains, a ferry, and a bus to get to my boyfriend's house.

Factor in the 2 or 3 times a year trips home to see my family and you've got some serious travel hours logged.

The apartment arrangement with my friend didn't last too long - 3 months tops. And then I was homeless in a manner of speaking. I lost a lot of my belongings in that move from my friend's apartment -- all my furniture as a matter of fact.

So, it was just me, my clothes, and my books; all theree of us made our way back to my boyfriend's.

I stayed there for a week or so while trying to arrange something else.

Finally I got a new dorm apartment. It was Halloween night; I arrived, picked up my key...and couldn't get in. My new roomie was out and apparently there had been a history of problems with this door lock - a hole had been cut in the wall to get a previous resident in. So, I was standing outside my new apartment on Halloween night with nowhere to sleep. I took all my bags down to the lobby and basically begged for help, to which the RA offered a spot on her couch for the night. I gratefully took her up on the offer and set all my belongings on her floor and crashed out for the night, as I had so many times before.

The next morning I went back and tried again to get into my new place, hopeful that my roomie was home and would let me in. I did get in and this was to be the place I stayed for roughly 6 months. After about 6 months I decided to call it quits in the city and go back home. Yet again, I packed up my clothes and books and got on the train for home (wherever that may actually be).

I stayed home for about 2 years and then was on the move again. I had gotten an apartment in the city, hoping to get some peace, this lasted so briefly it is almost not even worth recalling. Following that, I was again a guest in a relative's house. I enjoyed my 8 month stay there; I would go to work during the day and come home and drink, chat, and listen to music at night.

Finally, after an 8 month sojourn of peace with my relatives, I found a great apartment (with the help of my aunt) where I have now been for nearly a year. I am hoping to settle in for a bit longer and truly enjoy the peace of staying put somewhere.

I often wonder if it is life circumstances that cause people to go through these things as I have, or if it's more a matter of a wandering spirit that's never quite content to stay in one place for too long.