On being a free agent.

Anymore, home is where the work is.  

People get really wound up about a place they feel they belong to. They root for their Alma maters. They have affintiy for their home towns. Exile is still considered a fate worse than death.

And when we put down roots, we get really protective of our homes. The line, “don’t be gentle, it’s a rental,” only makes sense because we don’t care much about things that aren’t ours.

Which is why it’s an odd feeling to be an ex-pat or a brain drainer. You have an identity and affinity for your home, but you leave anyway, and thus abandon the place that made you. You need to explore and move on and see what’s out there for you. Your talents might take you to Rio or Berlin or San Francisco or South Beach.

You, as someone who left, have to explain why you left. And so unless you live in your hometown forever, you are a public relations nightmare to your local tourism board, because everyone wants to know “what you brought you here, to this new place?”

And a the answer is different for everyone. And it’s not why we left, it’s what we went to find. All we want is that feeling that we are home, and that we are welcome, and that we have a reason to be where we are—we want where we are to be ours.

We all want to shout, “Get off my lawn!” and mean it.