Home Amnesia

House (houz) – noun – 1. a building in which people live; residence for human beings. 2. a household.

Home (hohm) – noun – 1. a house, apartment, or other shelter that is the usual residence of a person, family, or household. 2. the place in which one’s domestic affections are centered.

I’ve been out of my home country for months, as I am studying music in America (I’m Canadian). At first, I found it really strange to be there, in a house that was home to a family for many years, in a neighbourhood where, if one person lost power, the entire town lost power (it’s that tiny), and if you went for a walk in the middle of the night to get some air, you’d get lost in the woods.

Basically, I moved from a pretty large city where every night you fell asleep to the soothing sound of sirens, to a town that can barely be considered a township, and if you heard sirens it scared you a tad.

Personally, I’m terrified of spiders. The way they sprint accross surfaces, their long, crooked legs, and, worst of all, the way they just sit there in their webs.. staring at you… mocking you every second… terrifying.

Another thing that terrified me about my house: there was a connecting apartment being rented out by a couple I don’t really know.. that has two doors connected to my room. Just my room. It’s like that episode of Medium, where this blind chick lives in an apartment alone and this guy sneaks in through a secret door at night and watches her sleep then tries to kill her… agh. You can imagine how hard it was for me to fall asleep for a while… especially since my mom’s room (the only other person in the house) was not within earshot of mine (so many rooms and doors, if I screamed in the middle of the night, she’d continue having her sweet little dreams).

Basically, I was terrified of the house I’d moved into. Especially since I’d never moved in my life and didn’t know how to handle myself.

After about a month of school, I was used to the house, and I didn’t feel awkward anymore, or as terrified to fall asleep (keywords: as and terrified). I didn’t find myself thinking longingly about my home in Canada, or the friends I left there (I only ever felt close to a few, and the others were turning to distant memories). I found a group of friends at school, and I love them all to death, and I developped so much as a musician with all the time I had for practice and study.

Right now, it’s christmas holiday. I’m off school for a few weeks, and I’ve come home to Canada for the holidays. I knew I was excited to see my family, and to be able to hang out with my best friend (let’s call her Ashley), but other than that, I didn’t feel any other kind of excitement (except to go snowboarding… BALLIN). When I got to my house, I unpacked my things, put everything away, and it was like I’d never left… except I didn’t feel like this was exactly my home anymore. It is still my home, in the way that all my childhood memories are whispered to me by the walls, however this isn’t my home at the present. In the same way, however, I feel at home in America, but I don’t feel like it’s my actual home.

In my opinion, there is a difference between a house and a home. A house is a building that has bedrooms, bathrooms, a kitchen, and an optional living room with optional extra rooms. You put things in it, you sleep beneath its roof, you keep your belongings in it, and you can have groups of people join you in it for extended periods of time. A home, on the other hand, is something that can be a house, a hotel room, even a bench. It’s a place where, no matter what, you feel a strong connection to it, and you are the most comfortable in that one place. When people say “Where do you live”, that is usually the first place you think of. A corny phrase comes to my mind, Home is where the heart is. No matter how dorky that sounds, I agree completely.

Sitting here in the room I lived in for almost my entire life, I think of all the things I’ve been through. I have an extreme connection to this house (hell, I had a dream my mom sold it, and I woke up pissed at her), and I would never be able to see it gone. I love this house, and this is very much a home to me, but at the present it is more the home to my memories, and a place that is very comfortable to me. It is my home, and it is my house at the same time. I guess I can say the same thing for my house (home) in America, as this is an important year in my life, and I’ll have many memories within those walls that I’ll definitely feel sad when I leave it.

I guess, in a way, this is the same for many people. When we have been in a place or been in posession of an object for a period of time, we grow memories related to it, and when we part with it, it feels as though we were parting with those memories, too. I have a very poor memory – I forget what I am doing from one moment to the next. One of the best ways for me to keep hold of memories (unless they were really really really important) is to have an object that reminds me of that thing, or a circumstance that happened around that memory. For example, there’s this episode of Family Guy where Peter is watching tv and Jaws comes on, and the shark is talking in an extremely gay voice and going dun dun dun dun mm you’re yummy, and I thought of that once while I was working on memorizing a piece of music. Now, whenever I play that section of the piece, I think of that episode of Family Guy, and it has really helped to keep it in my memory banks. The same could be said for buildings, movies, toys, anything /anywhere you’ve had time with.

In the end, I guess it both matters and doesn’t matter, what the difference is between a house and a home. Many people confuse them for one another, or think them to be the same thing, and in the end, what is connection with anything without memories and thought?

House or home - are they the same, but different impact?

House or home - are they the same, but different impact?

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~ by linzy on December 17, 2008.

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