It's officially the holiday season. That yearly blend of anxiety and excitement mixed with a refreshing cold front is provoking me to find comfort in sentimental details. Certain items, fabrics, movies, books, and albums are like a warm blanket and can substitute the absence of family and familiarity that can often leave me feeling somewhat displaced. My guilty pleasures and go-to vices have become increasingly evident to me these days as I find myself constantly meeting people and presenting myself to them whereas my friends from home saw the work in progress and are part of the context to which these habits all formed, right? I think so. I'm still interested in the cultural/geographical context to which this all may apply, but I'm not sure how to articulate or analyze that properly.

I guess sometimes the downside to moving around and meeting new people is the tiresome necessity of explaining myself. Sometimes I feel like my tendencies make me an outsider as I've found my niche through trial and error. I guess a lot of finding out who you are is about finding out who you are not. While I am a very extroverted person, I love winter hibernation. I don't necessarily like how long it lasts back east, stretching most years from November through March, but there is something to be said for the change of weather and it's effect on the human psyche.

Winter makes me want to wear corduroy, thermals, and scarfs. I find myself staying home and listening to Dylan and Springsteen heavily. I have a profound admiration for writers and they're both brilliant storytellers. They're two of my favorite lyricists by far and their representations are inevitably entwined with the great northeast, helping me feel at home no matter how far I've wandered.