This Used to be Home

Since I'm back in my hometown, I've decided to allow myself to go down memory lane and develop some sort of case study of the Black Hole. I really have nothing else to do since I spend all my time at Starbucks or the public library until I find a place to sleep each night. I was slightly afraid to come back to the library since I'm pretty sure I've owed 50 cents since before I moved to South Africa when I was 17. I braved the wrath of the librarians though, and I've set up residence here.

Now, when I'm being completely honest, the Black Hole isn't that small of a town - about 35,000 people or so. We have all the necessities; it's not like I'm running around cow-tipping all day. However, it's got that small town feel to it, where you feel like you know everybody and even if you don't, they're still watching your every move.  I came to visit the Black Hole once while my parents were still living in South Africa. My mother knew I was at church with a boy within an hour upon my leaving church. That's how quickly gossip spreads. You have to be on your toes; you never know who will tell your mother something you don't want her to know.

You know those towns you see in movies like "Friday Night Lights" where the town shuts down on Fridays for the football games...the Black Hole is one of those places. In fact, the Black Hole made a 5-second appearance in that movie. When I saw it in the theater, the people (including myself) cheered; it was like we saw ourselves pop up on a map for the first time. Anyway, I grew up going to football games, cheering on the team. It wasn't just cheering on the team though, it was cheering on the town. And I wouldn't go back and change that, ever.

You're almost guaranteed to run into somebody you know at Starbucks. I remember when it came to town in 9th or 10th grade. It was like 0 to 90, it was suddenly the place to hang out, and I had to learn to like coffee. I saw my high school Biology teacher there yesterday. He bought my house when my family moved to South Africa in 11th grade. It's weird how things like that can happen. I also saw three kids I went to school with at Starbucks. They weren't people I particularly cared for back in the day, but it occurred to me after about 10 minutes of avoiding eye contact that they probably didn't remember me anyway. After all, it's been something like 6 years since I moved. Sometimes, I forget the Black Hole isn't really home for me anymore; it's just the place where I grew up.

Circling the Black Hole

So, I graduated from college. I successfully walked across a stage without tripping, shook hands with the president, and was handed a red folder containing a really expensive piece of paper.  I'm an academic, despite the chronic senioritis displayed in hundreds of Facebook status updates over the last year. I've been accepted to graduate school for Creative Writing in Alaska. Sure, it's not the most practical of goals or places, but being an academic doesn't mean you're practical. For me, it's exactly the opposite. Practicality has never given me anything good to write about.

I deferred admission to Alaska for a year, and my lease was officially up on Saturday. I'm homeless and on the move. First stop - my hometown in east Texas. I call it the "Black Hole" because it tends to suck you back in no matter how hard you try to run away. It was a nice place to grow up, but it's not exactly the place you want to be when you're 22. Here I am again though. I've spent the last three summers bouncing in and out of this place. I have no connections in the Black Hole as far as family goes, not in the traditional sense anyway. It's more like a system of extended families where I feel like I can pretend to be their 2nd or 3rd daughter for a couple nights.
 
This town is full of characters though. For instance, I'm sitting in Starbucks (however cliche that may be) right now. Outside the window, is a man in his thirties with a Confederate flag tattoo on his upper arm, shown because of his cut-off t-shirt. There are chains hanging out of the back pocket of his Wranglers, so I assume he's some sort of confused cowboy. He probably was born here, grew up here, married somebody from here. That's what people do here. Some people swear it's something in the water. I'm not so sure, but I plan on avoiding whatever it is.

So, I won't stay in the Black Hole for long. I can only allow myself succumb to the centrifugal force for so long. Soon, it'll be time to move on. For now, I'm just floating.