Home is where you are.

"Home Is Where You Are"- That sentence is a little joke between my dearest cousin and I. We found it on a picture in Urban Outfitters, and thought that it fit our lives, since we're the two drifters in the family. And I've always had the drifter personality. I've always wanted to get away from my little hometown. I grew up pretending my Barbies were in locations far, far away. I grew up studying maps of Los Angeles, New York,  Paris. I grew up packing a suitcase once every few months, wanting to run away, to escape to monotony.   And I knew, someday, it would happen. Sure enough, it did. But not exactly as I had planned.

When I was in high school, I began plotting my escape. I was going to graduate, move down to Southern California, go to cosmetology school, and change the world. Somehow. Unfortunately, cosmetology school in SoCal was more expensive, as was the living cost. So that idea fell right out the window. Determined, I started searching other options. Out of state schools. San Francisco schools. Anything that would get me out of the humdrum of Roseville. So where did I end up? 20 minutes away, in Folsom. I found the perfect little school, with leopard print carpets, and diva-esque instructors, who crafted me into the professional I am. They taught me everything about my art, in a way that I never could have experienced in a high profile school far from home. They gave me the best education I could have possibly received, and every day I am thankful for that.

But it was never enough. I always knew something was missing. At one point during my schooling, I met a man. And this man was my first love. He was a marine, and he was horrible for me. I had never been treated worse, I had never been so hurt, I had never been in a relationship so beneath me. But every time he left, I cried. Every time he talked about his deployments, I ached. Every time he called me from his base in San Diego, I was up all night, wishing I could be with him. It didn't matter about the cheating, or the lies, or the downright disrespect. Something always drew me back. There was some quality about him that I couldn't give up. Or so I thought.

It took me a long time, but I realized, finally, that that "quality" was nothing more than jealousy. I wanted what he had. Not the marine lifestyle, with the wars and deployments. But the opportunity to get away. To leave it all behind. he had nothing keeping him there, no ties to that little town, besides a girl who wanted to get away just as much as he did. We would talk for hours, about running away together, to Prague, to Tennessee, to anywhere where we could start fresh. But I never imagined a life with him. I imagined a life with no pretense, no preceding reputations, no "I know what you did last summer". I didn't want him, I wanted a chance to get away.

Needless to say, that didn't work out. I finally got smart, and decided a plane ticket and a life on a marine base wasn't how I wanted to make my escape. And not too long after that, I started getting comfortable. I found a good job, that payed well and was easy work. I was well into my schooling, and was one of the most successful students at the school, with the highest clientele base, and the most challenging cases. I had decorated my little studio apartment quite to my liking, and found myself an oh-so-devoted boyfriend. I was set.  I could finish school, get a job somewhere, move into the big, beautiful house with the rich, generous guy, and never have to worry about a thing. However, I'm a drifter, and as a whole, drifters are not okay with being "set".

About every two months, I would lose it. I would threaten to quit school, break up with the guy, sell everything I own, and move to Hawaii (or wherever sounded pleasant at the time). Someone would always talk me out of these outbursts, but they always stuck with me. I always thought, in the back of my head, that I needed to escape. Until I found my blessing at Papillon Salon.

Papillon taught me a lot about myself as a stylist. I worked there as an independent stylist, completely responsible for my own bookkeeping, scheduling, inventory, even bringing in my own clientele. I walked into this situation with arms wide open. I would be in charge of my own schedule, my own paycheck, my own life. And that's when I realized, that while I am a creature of adaptation, and I am the epitome of laissez-faire, that was more freedom and instability than I wanted. I didn't enjoy wondering if I would be able to pay rent, or put gas in the car. I didn't enjoy taking down every receipt, and analyzing every transaction, for tax purposes. I had already chosen a career path that could take me around the world. Did I really need as much freedom as I had taken on?

Over the months at Papillon, I became so involved with growing my business, that thoughts of escape fell by the wayside. I was so concerned with bringing in clientele and advancing my techniques, that I wasn't haunted by thoughts of big cities and sandy beaches. I went through many changes in this short time, not just career oriented. But along with my new career decisions, my life decisions had brought me to a place of peace. The burning desire to escape had left me. In its place was a burning desire to grow as a stylist, to become the best I can be. I poured myself into my work, from top to bottom. Every single little cell of my being was invested in the world of hair styling. And I was so, so happy.

Until one day. I took a vacation to Long Beach, with a girlfriend. And on this trip, I decided I didn't want to go back home. But this feeling I was infused with, it wasn't a need to escape. The escape mentality was desperate, and unhappy, and fierce. Now, I was feeling a desire for adventure. I was excited, and motivated, and eager for what I could turn this new adventure into. And that change in thinking, that new mindset, is the reason my adventure worked. I stopped being desperate for a out, I stopped hunting for an escape, and I stopped waiting on the change. I made it happen.

Now, I'm here. In my new home. It's still a little strange sometimes, not having my mother down the street, and not being able to drive over and visit friends, and not having the security I did back home. But this is my adventure, and I'm taking the wheel. I finally got my chance to start over, and my chance to shine. It's time to be an adult, and I am relishing this opportunity. I have an amazing support system, both in my home, with my roommates, and my cousin who lives 15 minutes away, and back in Sacramento, where my family and friends are cheering me on every step of the way. I love you all, and thank you for everything.