Writer's Block

I should thank Nadia for blogging in my absence. The last couple weeks have been a whirlwind with final exams, papers, and presentations in school, landing a new job for the summer, and the random tasks that add-up on your to-do list but don't actually get done until the very last minute...suspending mail and magazine delivery, refilling flea medication for my dog Watson, writing thank you notes to all the people who have made my first year in graduate school such a great one, etc. It's been a whirlwind of insanity and taking care of the 'stuff' in life that none of us want to do, but have to do lest we be labeled an irresponsible slob. Anyways, after all this settled down, I came back to Kansas to spend some time with my parents and I made a promise to myself: "thou shalt blog everyday. NO EXCUSES, PLAY LIKE A CHAMPION". Or something like that. Anyways, that hasn't happened. I've been the Los Angeles Lakers' of couples bloggers in that I am extremely frustrated because I haven't generated any results. As a truly honest Charlie Sheen would say, I'm bi-losing. And, next time I see Jose Juan Barea I'm taking off my shirt and elbowing him in the face (illustration).

Mr. Barea, meet Gen of writer's block fame

Hit the showers and don't leave your keyboard until you've hit the 'Publish Post' button

My confession to you is that I haven't wrote anything because I am having a serious case of writer's block. For those of you who like to write/blog, you know how frustrating this affliction is. Why? Because it's nearly impossible to pinpoint where it is coming from. Because you feel stupid. Because you don't feel like yourself. And this has been one of those weeks where, for some reason I have not felt like myself. Something is missing. What is it?

I read a great column today that described home as something you feel when you are in a descending airplane. In other words, you look out the window, out over the landscape, and maybe you count swimming pools in backyards, look for famous landmarks, or you follow the sunlight in the water or you marvel at how slowly the cars seem to move. And there's a feeling you have. When I land at Tokyo Narita Airport, I feel this buzz of excitement. The same is true for many other places I've visited in recent years - Panama, Iceland, San Francisco, New York, London, etc. It's that feeling you get when you feel on top of the world, and as you're coming down, you think, "Oh man...I've arrived".

But flying into a city and feeling, "Oh, I'm HOME" ... that's something different. In the words of Joe Posnanski, "There's something deeper, something that is wordless, a sense that you are going to the one place that makes you feel centered and comfortable and even a bit certain." That place, so eloquently described, is Home for me. And the more time I've spent at "home" in Salina, Kansas, pop. >50,000 (but they're ordering a recount), stomping ground of my youth, the only city I called 'Home' growing up, the more I realize that this is no longer my Home in the sense that I described above. This is a place where my parents live, whom I love very much. But as far as Salina, Kansas the 'Home' goes, I've moved on. Now that I'm in Salina, I feel like Odysseus when he returned from his years in the wilderness at sea, and only his faithful dog Argos recognizes him because his experiences have fundamentally transformed who he is.

I only wear Under Armour brand tunics, and Watson is not this big

Since leaving Salina at the ripe age of 18, I've been a wandering soul. I have lived in Princeton, NJ, Kanazawa, Japan, New York City, Washington, DC, and now, St. Louis. I've studied, I've worked, I've volunteered, I've partied, I've traveled, I've fallen out of love with girls/music/sports/authors/blogs and fallen back in love again, and all of these experiences have made me a different person than who I was when I left.

The past few days, I've had the freedom of post-finals relaxation and reflection, away from that tidal wave of stuff that is my life. I've sat here at a keyboard and hammered out half-assed drafts of blog entries. I've taken Watson for long walks. I've tried (and failed) to go fishing. I've caught up with old friends. I've watched movies, and read books. And the entire time I've felt restless and incapable of sustaining a coherent thought process. So, what is missing? Well, either I am missing a diagnosis for attention-deficit disorder, or I'm missing Nadia.

I'm 99.9% certain it is the latter. Because as I've come to realize over the past year, no matter where I go and how far away I am from Nadia in DC, she is always on my mind. Nadia, and the memories we have made, are now Home to me. And that is a great thing for us. If I have to take my time sitting here frustrated at the keyboard, until the words that I want to say come pouring out and allow me to write again, then so be it: Nadia, I miss you and love you. And I can't wait to come Home to you.

This Saturday, May 14, I eagerly await the time when my plane descends to Reagan National in D.C. I will go through the demanded security routine of putting up my tray table and seat, then will go through my personal routine of raising the blind, staring out at the tidal basin, marveling at the setting sun, gazing at the Pentagon or Washington Monument (depending on what side of the plane I am on), guffawing at the sad saps backed up in traffic on M St in Georgetown...until I am jolted by the plane touching down on the tarmac. I will turn on my cell phone, and I will call Nadia to let her know I have arrived. And I'll hop in a cab, and those 30 minutes will feel both like the longest and shortest 30 minutes of my life. At Rhode Island and N, I'll get out of the cab, grab my bags, tip the driver, and walk up the apartment steps. And when I see Nadia's face, I will smile as wide as the Grand Canyon. Because I am Home.

So come Saturday, May 14, approximately 627 p.m. I advise everyone in the Dupont Circle area of DC to wear shades. Gen is coming Home to Nadia, and the light about to be unleashed from the heavens is bright as f**k.

It's on. Mama, I'm coming home.