Wondering where I am

This weekend I came back to Northern Virginia.

This is, actually, a surprisingly difficult task. The bus system is awful. The train takes even longer. Flights are even more expensive than flying from New York to Los Angeles.

But my mom found the time to pick me up, and I really appreciate that.

Before I got in the car, I had to pack. Pack? To go home? Why would you need to do that? Isn't that where all your belongings should be? Obviously that isn't the case. It struck me as odd.

So after a 5 hour drive (extended thanks to inclement weather) my mom and I pulled into our driveway. My dad was still at some FEI (Federal Executive ... something) class, and wouldn't be back until Friday night.

So I walked unlocked the door using the "hidden" key, walked from the garage door to the front, dropped my backpack, kicked my shoes off into the closet, and headed straight for the TV. I knew the Dodgers - Phillies game was on, and I didn't want to miss it.

It occurred to me how practiced that motion is. Every single time I walked back from the bus stop I'd do the exact same thing. I suppose it would be more surprising, though, if six years of habit wore off in just two months.

Not much happened that night. My mom was tired from having driven about 16 hours in the past two days, so she went straight to sleep. She also had work the next day. Which freed me up to visit TJ.

I woke up at 10 for the first time in at least a few weeks. I barely ever get up before 11:30, and sometimes not even then. Yes, even now TJ forces me to get up earlier than I'd like. After heading to Five Guys to pick up some food, I made my way to the school.

Walking into the front office was kind of funny. I went to the visitor's computer and made myself a name tag. The lady at the desk said, "Excuse me ... are you one of our ex-grads?" I was prepared to hear the word "alumni." But "ex-grads?" It just makes it sound further removed ... I replied "Um ... yes." To this she responded "OH! I couldn't tell! You look so young with your backpack!"

-_-

I had brought my backpack to take care of some homework. Doing homework in school? Some things never change.

After locating the group of people I wanted to see, we proceeded to have a nice conversation. I have no idea what it was about. It was interesting, though, and I lost track of time. Apparently I was the only one, because around 12:27 everyone suddenly got up and left. It took me a second to realize where they were going. Class? All at the same time? Strange stuff.

So having nothing better do, I made my way to Room 231 to say hi to Dr. Osborne and sit in on his Multi class. Perhaps learn a thing or two, and do some math homework of my own. Dr. Osborne was too happy to see me. Like, seriously. I wouldn't be overjoyed to see a student who bombed his AMT class thanks to atrocious work ethic. But that's what makes Dr. Osborne Dr. Osborne, I suppose.

After doing two problems, I quickly realized that this wasn't going to work. Dr. Osborne was too interesting a teacher, and there were too many memories flashing through my head for me to get anything done. So I put my pencil down, sat back, and enjoyed the ride.

Within minutes, it began. Dr. Osborne introduced "xi" to the class. Xi obviously is a rather complicated-looking letter, and he demonstrated to the class how to write it using his famous second-grade line-dottedline-line structure. On top of that, I remembered all that complex homework. The subject of death was not made any easier by the fact that they enjoyed using xi's in combination with their Zs. Therefore at the top of every complex problem I wrote "Let a = xi." I maintain that I cut my homework time in half by utilizing this strategy. I was sorely tempted to raise my and and recommend it.

I was having a good time, sitting in the back and laughing. The front row caught my attention. It was only 3 desks wide. How inefficient, I thought. It would be much better for productivity and would aid communication between students if they were to simply add desks on either side of the row. Again, I wanted to suggest that they form a super-row of their own, but that might be considered blatant disruption of the class.

The circumstances were so similar to AMT and Complex. I was sitting in the class after lunch and in the back laughing. What's missing? I wondered. So at around 1:45 I got up and bought an orange soda from the vending machines. I would have preferred that Eric do it, but sadly he wasn't around. He was in class, and not wandering the halls, for once.

At 2:05 I half expected to walk out and have our meeting right outside his room, where everyone stood in a giant circle, people stole my viola and sat on it, and discussed the various rendezvous options after skipping 8th period. Sadly this is not what happened, but I did get to chat with Dr. Osborne a bit. He asked me if I was keeping up with my math homework in school, and I showed him the two problems I had worked through in class. He was impressed, I think. Or maybe unsurprised that I wasn't paying attention in class. Perhaps a combination of both.

8th period sort of consisted of me walking around saying hi to various teachers. I found Mr. Lamb and Mr. Ero at bridge and chess club, respectively. I'm surprised they actually wanted to talk to me. I was hardly a good student in Mr. Lamb's class, and wasn't even a student of Mr. Ero's. Regardless, it was interesting to talk to them from a position where I wasn't their student.

I had met all the teachers I wanted to (with the exception of Mr. Majeske, but I didn't think he would be there) but I missed out on a lot of people. So in a last-ditch attempt to get to see some people I called up Luke. Apparently everyone had gone home, but it was great to eat with him and Ming-Yee. He also apparently thinks I have either forgotten or never knew where Ara's is. Sheesh Luke, I've been gone for 2 months. Not 2 years :P

After driving back I got to see my dad. Quite the character, as you all know. He was all charged up about having taken the Myers Briggs test. He's an INTJ, apparently. I know this because he repeated it about 30 times. He also calls my type (INFP) Introverted Intuitive Failing Person. Thanks, Baba.

That night was the first game of the ALCS (American League Championship Series) between the Yankees and Angels. I know most of you don't really follow or care about baseball, but this is something I've done for more than 10 years. It was sort of the first sport I picked up without my dad teaching me. I spent hours piecing together the rules from scratch (I wasn't smart enough to read a book). The Yankees haven't gotten this far in the playoffs since 2004. To put that in perspective, although I probably don't need to, that's before we went to high school.

I've watched them try and fail in the playoffs for seven of the last eight years. And every single time I've done it from the worn-out purple rocking chair in the living room, which is the only seat I can move around anxiously in without either getting up or tipping the chair over. To sit in that same chair and watch a 13-inning game go down to the wire meant more than I realized it did.

So after another solid night of sleep I began another day of adventure with my parents. After dim sum and using my warranty to obtain yet another pair of shoes (I'm at 3 plus flip flops now) we succeeded in getting lost. Yes, lost in our Northern Virginia. How embarrassing. Not particularly interesting in helping my parents sort out the mess, I stared out the window until I started recognizing streets. It's amazing how you can associate something with almost every landmark in your area. As we drove up Kirby Road, I spotted Noble Drive, Chesterbrook Elementary, Linaway Terrace Park, and Mori Drive. Each has its own story. I could spend years telling them. Unsurprising, really. That's how long it took to accumulate all of them.

After a break that I spent sitting at my computer, my parents were ready to take me on more adventures. However, for some reason, that time getting lost was the last straw! They went out and bought a GPS system, much to my dismay. They were so proud of it, they were eager to test it out immediately. We were just about to go to my favorite Thai restaurant in the area, so they decided it would be an excellent opportunity to test out the GPS. However, they quickly realized that they knew neither the name of the place ("Thai Something" my dad says) nor its address, but were still trying hard to incorporate the GPS system into their journey, somehow. Even though they already knew how to get to the place. Usage fail.

So after returning from excellent Thai food and intense conversation, I again sat down in my chair and watched the Yankees-Angels game. Riveting. Too intense for me, actually, as I got up near the end and went to my computer. I checked updates periodically on my computer. Glad to see that they won.

Apparently I could've used more Thai food, though. I got hungry at around 2 in the morning (I usually eat around then at school) so put down my headphones and carefully made my way downstairs.

I don't walk around barefoot in school, but I do at here. It's expected, I suppose. So after padding quietly down the stairs so I wouldn't wake my mom up (although 2 am is usually when I finish my homework and she would always complain about me running up and down the stairs as I packed for school the next day) I noticed something was off. I had taken the 14 steps, but my bare feet still felt cold floor. I froze. Had I miscounted? Was I about to take another step and fall off the stairwell? I was sure there was supposed to carpet there. After groping around for the lights, I switched them on and found myself standing at the bottom of the stairwell. I hadn't miscounted. The carpet was just gone.

Strange, I thought. I walked into the kitchen and pulled open the fridge. It seemed so ... empty. I never realized how much of the food in the fridge was there because of me. Instead of being filled with large quantities of pasta, fruits, and bagels, the fridge was at best half filled with chicken curry. What was I supposed to eat? I grabbed some more granola bars and ate the rest of the box as a consolation to myself.

As I closed the fridge door the light fell on a picture across the room. I had noticed it before but not really thought much of it. It was a rather large, framed, version of one of my senior pictures. It stuck out like a sore thumb, in my opinion. All the other pictures seemed so normal - my mom and dad, my first trip to the statue of liberty, a kindergarten picture, a sixth grade picture, etc. My senior picture just seemed ... odd.

And I realized that the only reason that I thought it was so out of place was because it was the only new addition. Those pictures have been there, unchanged, since 7 years ago, when we moved into this house. It was just me, once again overreacting to the slightest of changes, like the carpet or the fridge.

Those old photos reminded me of preschool. In particular, I was reminded of the song "Down By the Bay." I haven't heard that song in years. Here's how it goes, as best as I can recall -

Down by the bay
Where the watermelons grow
Back to my home
I dare not go
For if I do
My mother will say
Did you ever see a bear
Combing his hair?
Down by the bay ...

There are more verses. I could take a hack at some of them, but I won't.

I never thought to consider the meaning of that. It's fairly obvious though.

I suppose I'll have to go back down by the bay, then. I have yet to spot the bear combing its hair. Even if I do, I'll still have to find the goose kissing a moose, or the bee with a sunburned knee. The list goes on and on. I just can't stay home for long.

In a conversation today I inadvertently said that I was going back home tomorrow. Or perhaps that was less inadvertent than I'm willing to admit. So what does that make here, Northern Virginia?

According to Sandy Cheeks, the wise and playful squirrel from Spongebob Squarepants, home is where you're surrounded by people that care about you. I can safely say that about Carnegie Mellon. But it would be beyond arrogant not to include this place under that definition, either. I still consider myself surrounded. Even if it's only by two people.

I give a lot of credit to my friends. You never hear me give my parents any credit, though. But they to say that they deserve some is quite the understatement. I'm at least in part a living reflection of them. I don't know what they think what they look at me. Maybe someday I'll understand that feeling. But I know that when I look at them I see the people who have taught me the most in life, the people I've cried in front of completely unashamed, the people who have taken me to pieces and put me back together.

When I first arrived and my room was almost freakishly clean, I was surprised. It was so ... unexpected and perhaps even a little unwelcoming. I realize now, though, that it doesn't really matter. Neither does the misplaced carpet, or the empty fridge, or the giant, ugly photo of my face in the corner of the kitchen.

The two people I've lived with my entire life save two months make this house feel like what Sandy described. Mommy and Baba, as I still call them after all this time, give up everything for me. Am I lacking independence? Absolutely. But in my humble opinion, it's worth the permanent tie I have to this place.

My home.