This will be brief; I used up lots of words already today. One conversation had to do with the following quotation by George Bernard Shaw:
"England and America are two countries separated by a common language."
Today I felt quite at home here, which is funny because the word "home" is in flux for me at the moment. Sometimes I use it to refer to San Francisco, and yet when I'm traveling around Scotland I obviously mean Edinburgh when I talk about returning home.
FunkyPlaid said "home-home" earlier to mean San Francisco, which means there is another level of home-ness for him. I was reminded of the difference between "like" and "like-like" as feelings for someone.
Here is the object of my like-like and also my primary measure of home-home. Well, the arm of him, at any rate:
When I was much younger and saw my first tattooed person, I thought that inked skin turned hard like shell or bone, a type of subcutaneous armour. I suppose it can be a protective layer, but in a more complex way than I ever imagined.
Words are my protective layer. I hadn't thought about it before today, but I didn't change my spelling when I moved. I think it is time to adapt a bit.