How long is a piece of string? As long as you want it to be.....

I have considered ending this blog.

At times I think yes and others no.

The trip home happened and finished and I have moved on. The story of "boy leaves home, boy returns home, and home leaves boy" is completed. So what next?

Do I continue writing about the endless search for home and what home means? I could do that, I guess.

I guess home for me has been a journey and I have understood that home is a construct of the mind, but more than anything else you must make it. And you have to do that first and foremost with people. Home is about people you care about.

My friend Geraldine recently emailed and said that the staffroom in Malaysia seemed quiet without me. I really miss everyone in Malaysia. I feel lucky to have people all over the world I can go and see who will give me floor space if I need it.
(Several countires in Asia and Europe, parts of Canada and the States, Australia, Africa, hmmm, maybe a trip to South America is in order?!)

So perhaps home being about people means that I should continue writing about the people in my life, but that seems like a series of one off blogs with no connection. When I wanted to start a blog, my friend Tom said "You need to have a purpose."

I'm not sure if that is finished or not, or if I achieved my purpose.

I think I am going to make a decision. I have decide if I want to continue writing this or not. If I don't then I will start another one with a different kind of slant. Or maybe I'll keep this going and have 2.

Right now I am sitting in my flat in Casablanca at 7:18am on Friday, the twenty-somethingth of February (I really don't give a shit which day it is, it's Friday and I can smile at that). Today will be a good day, at the end of it I have to plan for Monday and then I can come home. Tomorrow, my flatmate and I are going on a weekend trip to Marrakech to get out of "Casa". (We all love our short forms, don't we, they really distinguish us from the tourists and low-class backpackers!)

I think I need something more in my life. I think I need either a partner, a child, or a dog. It's gotta be something that makes noise and needs me, or at the very least comes running when I get home -- granted, the kind of day you have at work decides whether the dog/child/partner runs to or away from you, but regardless I need something that makes a bit of noise in the flat. The BBC World Service just doesn't cut it anymore.

Or maybe I need to go back into theatre. There is comfort in deluding yourself that you are much better at something than you think you are. Teaching has lost its challenge for me.

7:31, time for work.
Another day, another dirham.