can't sleep

It's almost 2am, I have a test in nine hours and I can't sleep. Of all the times in the world for this to happen, now is not especially opportune.

I'm having a small world/big world moment. I'm moving, I'm leaving my new set of friends in my newly established community with my newly established work/school/life connections to pick up and do it again. Anyone who knows me would probably ask,
"Why does this bother you? You do this every year or two."

And perhaps that's why - I do this every year or two. I was explaining to my new landlord where I live and it took way longer than it should have. "Well you see, I'm in Vermont right now but my house is in Indiana but my family is in Louisiana but my piano is in Mississippi but my fiancee's family is in DC and I'm moving to Boston with my dog. Yeah."
There are so many people with whom I have inexplicably lost touch. For no good reason, our connection has merely vanished into the ether. Through the wonders of the internet (whether truly wondrous or not) I've managed to re-establish a few of those. Largely, the "calls made" list on my phone goes to four entries: the fiancee, the parents, the best friend in BR and the college friend in Tennessee. The latter two are more sporadic with work schedules and the part where I can't speak English out loud right now, but there are people in my past with whom I have had fantastic experiences, heated arguments, shared cross-country trips, held each other up when we were drunk, screamed violently at each other, gone to Waffle House at 3am, and yet years have gone by without speaking.

I surmise that as time goes by, the yawning gap yawns further. It becomes awkward how much time has passed and how little it matters. And yes, one makes new friends and lives in new places and times change and people change. But for crying out loud, does it have to change so fast? I told myself that when I began my DMA I would have a chance to be in one place for three solid years. That has not happened since high school. For the last ten years it's been two years here, one year there, nine months somewhere else, constant turnover and not always by my hand. When my folks picked up out of the old house it pretty much signified the final break between me and the 'dell. I don't even know the first names of their neighbors in the new neighborhood - they've been there three years now.

Is it wrong to feel homeless when you can't really call anywhere home? If home is where the heart is, mine is in Indiana. If home is where you were born, mine is Louisiana. If home is where you found your true self, mine is England. And if home is where your zip code is, mine will soon be Boston. But all of that rings partially true and partially not. Oh, to live happily out of my suitcase again. Oh, to have my passport revoked and stay in one place for thirty years.

Do not forget me quite, o severn meadows.