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This might not be the kind of entry you think it is. Then again, I'm not sure where this is going either …

Time for more thinking out loud.

There are many times when my cynical side gets the best of me. Getting back into newspapers has awakened that part of my personality. It's easier to fire off an insensitive comment rather than appear to care. To a certain extent, that's a defense mechanism for a lot of journalists. The rest of that, well, we can be a pretty cruel and insensitive lot, and there's really not much wrong with that.

The problem I'm having is one of extremes. I've said that I don't take work home, and I don't. But I think I've been using the cynicism that comes quite naturally to … distract myself from the fact that 1) moving was more traumatic than I wanted to admit; 2) I'm still extremely vulnerable and 3) "home for the holidays" doesn't really mean what it should to me this year. We'll tackle these in order.

For starters, the move makes sense. It was probably the only thing I could've done. I don't like being backed into a corner, ever. I resent the hell out of that stuff. Financially, I needed to do this. And it's not a bad arrangement, not by a long shot. I do have too much stuff, but that's a given. In terms of what it meant for the end of my marriage, I really feel I'm doing OK with that. I certainly have better things to focus on than the ex, and I'm really OK with the idea of being divorced. Moving brought closure in a very physical sense. It's not all entirely my space, but I do have space. And I have peace of mind, which is nice. Still, my over-analytical mind is fucking with me. Which leads directly to the next point.

I don't like being vulnerable. I take pride in holding shit together. I think there's a part of me that gets off on staying calm during a crisis, especially during something like election night or if there's breaking news. That's work, though. At my core, I want to be in control; we all do. And if I'm not in control, especially of something like my feelings, I want to know why, I want to fix it or figure out why I'm feeling a certain way. Hell, that's the whole point behind keeping a blog. Anyway, the whole issue of vulnerability has to do with the fact that I'm feeling needy and neurotic. And I know why I'm feeling that way, and it has everything to do with me. The frustrating thing is that I really don't have a reason to feel that way. Well, I do and I don't. I think I've gotten a handle on it.

To a certain extent, it goes back to me ignoring advice from friends about how long to wait before getting into a relationship. Considering where I've been, I do have a good handle on my emotions. Christ, it's been five months now. It's been roughly 150 days of extremes, and that's the problem. Finding equilibrium has been tougher than I thought it would be — mostly because I didn't really think about it. I thought it was good enough to find someone I loved who made me forget I was married. And under no circumstances do I have regrets about that. I'm with a wonderful guy and I have never been happier. I can't imagine life without him. But it goes beyond making me forget about the ex. Maybe in the beginning, I wanted that. Now, it's about us, and who knows where we're headed. I need to step back and find balance — with what I'm feeling and what's realistic given things like schedules and other adult-type obligations. I was really proud of myself for maintaining a "whatever happens, happens" attitude. I don't know when, or why, that changed. I don't think it's a bad thing since I recognize the behavior pattern. Maybe it's OK for me to be a little nuts. The bottom line for me is that I don't want to fuck it up. That's the big fear, that's where the vulnerability comes in to a certain extent. Was it my fault my marriage didn't work? The easy answer is no. But clearly, there was something lacking. I'm not beating myself up over it, but when I let the doubt and self-pity visit, those are the kinds of things I wonder about. In any event, being neurotic accomplishes very little, and getting that stuff out of my system feels better. I may look like a fool, but what else is new.

For the past few years, I've been OK with being away from friends and family. But this is the first major holiday I won't be with … well, it's safe to say it's a major departure. Last year, I was able to go home. This year, I'm working and will have dinner with friends. In fact, I had to turn down one unexpected, but very sweet, invite. Or at least postpone the visit. I think I'm getting hung up on the whole "home" concept. Mom moved. The person I came up here with is no longer a part of my life. It just feels a little weird I guess. It's kinda silly, but I'm a little sad because I don't have anyone to cook a turkey for. And that reads poorly, and I don't mean it that way. I guess I'd like to be the one hosting dinner and cooking for all the people who helped me out over the summer. It's weird and sentimental and hopelessly romantic and out of character for me. For me, home is more than where you fall asleep at night. Home is where you're comfortable, where you feel safe, where — hopefully — you're with the people (or person) you love. Having that is key, at least in my twisted little world. I know it's idealistic. But there's a Luther Vandross song, "A House Is Not A Home:"

A chair is still a chair, even when there's no one sittin' there
But a chair is not a house and a house is not a home
When there's no one there to hold you tight
And no one there you can kiss goodnight

Yeah, you had to know lyrics were coming, especially in a long-ass entry like this. Granted, it's a song about losing love, but I like the sentiment about what makes a house a home. The song always had meaning to me, and this is why: For someone who thinks of herself as independent, recent history teaches our heroine that loving and being loved are very important. This requires trust and a certain amount of dependence on another person. Not co-dependence, dammit. But healthy give and take. On top of that, you basically reap what you sow. It feels good to put a lot into something and get the same in return; it's pretty fucking awesome, come to think of it. And I'm not sure where that's going, given the hour. But I do know I'll be OK and that thinking out loud like this helps me get rid of the angst.

I will find the home I'm looking for, I'm confident about that. I don't know when, but I will, someday. And if that's not enough reason for optimism, I don't know what is.