It all started with my GoogleMaps.

Sitting in my car, I started to type in “home.” I have “home” set to my apartment in Manayunk, although it wasn’t until I was typing it in that I felt weird calling my current apartment “home.” Sure, I love my apartment and love my roommate, but is it really “home”?  And thus, the simple task of opening GoogleMaps lead to a philosophical internal debate about what “home” means to me.

This is what I think about as an “adult.”

“Home” really isn’t my apartment in Manayunk. Nor is it my parents’ house in New Jersey. The closest thing to “home” is Villanova, but hey, I don’t really belong there anymore. So really, where is my “home”? Continue reading →