My Grandmother told me once that a city has enough windows for everybody. I still want to believe her.

The last day of August, although not literally it feels like the last day of summer, even though it doesn't feel much like summer here right now. I am still adjusting to a new city, still trying to avoid sitting at home alone for days on end. School has only kinda started, but I don't really have reading yet, no real assignments, so for now I just have to show up for classes, and even one of those was canceled this week.

Worcester has been okay so far. It is not brilliant, I am still not sure of where I can walk alone at night. But it is okay. I feel safe biking everywhere I need to go, so until winter comes in full swing I will be okay.

We are setting up camping weekends, and retreat weekends, and whatever else. I am entertained by my new associates. I am hoping to make a friend or two out of the grouping. I am hoping to not be bored. I may have found a volunteer position helping teach African Refugees in Worcester, I'm going in to meet with a classmate who works there next week. It should be good.

It is always interesting to establish home in a new city. Finding places to go, people to pass time with. And tomorrow, back to the amazing park that has loads of puppies running around, and lunch with classmates. And something to do.

If you come back bring a new name for everything

I am moved. I am settling into a new home in a new city that I know nothing about and that I am slightly afraid of. I will learn to navigate it. I will pull out my bike tomorrow and bike the six blocks to a bar to get drinks with a new classmate. I will continue to watch movies with my cat while it rains outside, but I will also start to explore. Soon, I swear.

Mostly so far it has been unpacking, building things, carrying 100's of pounds of crap up three flights of stairs and trying to make a home out of the empty apartment I moved into a week ago. I left Minneapolis a week ago, with the oddly distressing realization that I will very possibly never call that city home again. That any time I go back I will simply be a visitor.

I read over an old notebook earlier today, all about walking in Spain and visiting Amsterdam, the city that feels more like home to me than anywhere else so far. And now I want to be walking in Spain again, to extend so much energy that I have no options at the end of the night but sleep. To create histories for strangers and television shows with no purpose and only minor plot, I want to e-mail John about eagle boy and cheetah girl but I don't know if he would remember.

It's funny that when I feel nostalgic for anything it's almost like all my possible nostalgia floats to the surface and I begin to miss things I haven't thought of in ages.

For now, singular days at a time. A farmers market with one farmer, a movie theatre at the end of an industrial warehouse area. A new city to explore.