Of memories and change

Pull out the fear of silence / Put out the need for guidance / Put out your own devices
And don't be afraid of the cold / Afraid of the cold / Afraid of the time / You've got no where to go but here.

---Silversun Pickups "Growing old is getting old"

It's always though coming back home. The cliché says that you can never go home again, and I always thought it was

because it was oneself who changed (and maybe matured) enough to feel a little out of place.

But no, I think I was wrong. I think I'm still the same person as I was when I left in 2008 (same weight, smaller size, thanks, Sheffield steep hills!) but Mexico is in a bit of a state. Not only due to some socio-economical turmoil I can't stomach to type, but also because of my acquaintances.

People getting married left and right, divorces, moving out of the country, people getting pregnant, so many things that I know eventually happen to most of us, but it's hard to marry the idea of your best friends going through that. You'd expect something as big as (let's say a child) would be something significant, that things would change and some sort of ceremony or summink would happen.

But no, it's mostly a whimper. And that's what is getting to me: how underwhelming are these “big events” and how I still not look forward to any of it. I should because of my age, which is when people start going “legit”, but still I feel that there's something missing that is not letting me and go fulfil those adult responsibilities.

I got called “niñote” the other day. That just means “big kid” but I think the proper term in English is “arrested development” (great show, btw). I sometimes DO feel out of place in Sheffield, hanging with people quite younger than me. But I feel out of place in Mexico, with people my age.

So... what should I do? Can't think of anything, so I'll just sit by, review some stuff and have a few sips of coffee while Silversun Pickups and their brilliant ditty, 'The Royal We', soothe my mental anguish.