on 'change' and 'home'

When I have an idea for a post in mind, I sometimes Google it to get ideas, images, etc. 

Today, when I searched for "change," I found this quote:

"Managing change is no mean feat.  By nature, human beings do not like change."

I'd like to echo that sentiment right now, and add a loud, large "AMEN" to the end of that.

And yet, history shows that my life has been full of change.  Did you know that, since I was employable, I have had at least 13 different jobs? Or that, since I graduated high school, I've been a student at three different universities and 4 different university campuses? Oh, if you count Additional Qualification courses, we are now up to 4 universities and 5 "campuses" (the fifth one was my AQ course and we met in a high school).  I've lost a father, gained a sister- and a brother-in-law, moved out on my own, back home and then in with a roommate ... in a brand-new (to me) country. And since that time, I've wracked up more air miles than my entire family combined.

And if my current train of thought/pursuits are any indication, many changes are still to come in the next little while.

*sigh*

Glutton for punishment? Sure seems that way, doesn't it?  

Don't get me wrong; for the most part, the changes have led to good things happening, though it didn't seem like any good could come out of it at the time.  

Still, it'd be nice if I could just settle for a while, stop and just feel at home.

Maybe that's the big issue.  Home.  What exactly does that look like, feel like?  Is it a place I feel like I belong, or is there more to it than that?  

Whenever I travel away from my apartment, I always feel good coming back. This city is familiar.  I know the places to go.  But then something happens to remind me that something isn't quite right.  Maybe I almost get hit by a bus. Or a car horn blast makes me jump. Or the only toilet available is a hole in the ground with walls that come up to my waist and no door.  Or someone is desperately trying to say something to me, to the point where they are yelling, and I just ... don't get it.

But then when I go back to Canada ... something's not quite right, either.  I can't quite place what it is.  Maybe it's something as simple as the cost of living being much higher. 

Or the fact that I need to spend hours confined in a small metal tube that is hurtling through space to get back there.  

Or maybe it's the fact that I've experienced a form of community unlike anything I've ever experienced in Canada, and I just don't want to give it up. Not just yet, anyway.

Or maybe it's that the only thing I'm trained to do involves teaching in a classroom, and prior experience tells me that I do NOT want to go back to that in Canada ever again. So the scary question is this: if I go back, what am I going to do to survive?

Or maybe it's the fact that, having experienced life here, I don't know if I can go back to life there.  Or vice-versa.  There are good things and bad things in both places, and now that I've lived in both and seen what life could be - either here or there - I don't know if I'll ever be able to happily live in either place.

Or any place this side of heaven.