i moved.

I moved again. From Cottonwood Heights to Downtown Salt Lake City. So this is my 4th place in the last 5 years. And I like it so far! 

My room is a dark, plum purple. Kind of looks like a bruise. I don't usually like the color purple, but I like it in this room. My other roommate has a puppy BASSET HOUND. He is adorable and that dog alone is worth the move.

I get a strange concept of home when I move.  All my things are the same, I'm the same, I do the same things, but why doesn't it feel the same? Home for me isn't an actual place anymore. I have a place that I keep all my things but I don't really have a home.

update on a lot of nothing!

Tonight!

 It's my first night back in our apartment!

My home!

My natural habitat.

And I'm looking forward to getting re-settled. Usually... I would hate it because I hate unpacking... sometimes I never even unpack. Ha. There is usually clothes always in my suitcase. But you know, I just look at it like it makes things more convenient for the next trip.

I have big plans tonight. Big plans to attempt making fish and chips from scratch! Minus going out to a lake and catching the fish. I'm just going to substitute that part with the fish market at Smiths. The internet makes it sound and look easy... but that's usually when I have the hardest time. I for some reason will always overcomplicate things. Especially in cooking. And life.

Then, after I try and serve dinner in a kitchen that's hopefully not on fire, I am going to make this collage thing. I have this bulliten board I got two years ago that I never found a use for. So I decided all my concert tickets will look very dandy on it.

I have started to collect pins. I actually collect a lot of things... being a person who finds sentimental value in everything, you end up with a lot of collections. My newest collection is pins. And this is my favorite:

 

change is never easy; you fight to hang on and you fight to let go.

HELLO.

As of January 6th I have been living out at Shandey's house (just til February 1st...).
Just me and the little bunny friend living in their extra bedroom.
Everything is fine, it's just so we can "test run" what it will be like living with each other in Chicago.

Honestly, it's a hard adjmustment. As much as I love Shandey and my nieces, it's a lifestyle i'm not used to. The hardest part is not seeing Steve everyday. Ha, we are three days in and that has been my biggest struggle. I miss him. I think about him a lot. When I listen to the very bottom of my heart, I think this time I'm away at Shandey's is going to be good for more than one reason.

Not being at our apartment has really taught me how much of a homebody I am and how easily homesick I can be. I mean, I'm 30 minutes away from my apartment and I'm feeling like I'm in another country. Shandey has a nice, loving, warm home but nothing feels like my home.

A while ago I wrote on here, "Home is not a house, city, state, town, room, or street. Home is a person. And Steve is my home."

Normally, Kaleena would say "this is way too difficult and making me too sad to have this much distance from Steve and our apartment" but this new Kaleena that is weird and is all like "No, you are going to stay here and gain something from this experience. You aren't weak anymore."

Want to know how to know if you are crazy? You lecture youself and call yourself names. Ha. Insanity is great.

Just twenty-three more days and I'll be back in the Avenues. Home.

26 hours.

Guess how long it took to get to San Francisco on a bus? 12 hours.
Guess how long it took to get back home from San Francisco on a bus? 14 hours.
26 hours total were spent on a bus traveling to and from San Francisco.
26 hours later and we are back in Utah.
I'm happy to be home but not happy that I will be at work tomorrow and no longer in San Francisco.
The worst part about a trip/vacation, is the part where you have to come home and not be on it anymore.
I had a fun time though, I have pictures to prove it. I didn't want to leave.

a home.

Home.
Home is not a place.
It's not a house,
Or a room.

Home.
Home is not a city.
It's not a state,
Or a town.

Home.
Home is not a street,
It's not an address,
Or a zip code.

Home.
Home is not a memory.
It's not a song,
Or a feeling.

Home is a person.