Our notion of what home is has a profound influence on our character. The Atlantic magazine quotes environmental psychologist Susan Clayton as saying that “for many people, home is part of their self-definition.” So while we all love to snuggle up in the blankets we had when we were 5 years old, the sensations bring back memories of our formative years, when we could frolic all day in our pillow forts and get candy from our grandparents.
Apart from shaping our accents and lending us odd bits of vernacular, home forces us to think about who we are, who we were, and everything that affected us in between. We carry this identity to school, creating a mosaic of different personalities and attitudes. While the majority of UCSD students call somewhere in California home, there’s always that one kid from Hawaii who beams with delight at being associated with the sun, the surf and the leis. And apart from the self-effacing among us who insult their hometowns to no end, we are, for the most part, fiercely proud of our communities and our pasts.
There are also more concrete bases for our feelings. According to the Financial Times, research has shown that the human brain is stimulated and pleased by pictures, colors, textures and other sensory details. All of these are catalysts for that warm and fuzzy sensation of place and belonging.
The faded sky-blue chair in my foyer, the bright Lego-themed comforter and the soft carpet underfoot were all part of my conception of home. When I walked in and dumped my luggage on the floor, they all welcomed me back with that feeling of “home at last” nostalgia. While home decor may not inspire such effusive sentiment in more itinerant house-movers, there is ultimately a sense of recognition that lets us know that we’re back, that we’re safe — that we are finally insulated from midterms, coursework or whatever burdens may be upon us.
You might think, though, that the bland dorms of UCSD are hardly conducive to such joyous feelings. Indeed, it’s hard to grow attached to a place when you’re forced to be a patron of Cafe V. Years from now, however, when you’re living in a miserable corner of the world working on your postdoc and hating the place, it will undoubtedly be satisfying to boast to your coworkers about your time spent in sunny La Jolla. When you’re stumping through chest-deep rivers in search of specimens, your sense of home will make you wish you had never left the warmth of your dorm’s twin-XL bed.
