living out of suitcases

Oh sweet warm California...

how you have filled me with your tender words and begged me to stay...I come sometimes to bathe in your rays and to meet again those smiling faces...but you know me just as well as I know myself. 

You are not caught up in any delusions...but it is not abandonment, no. You will always be my home but my nomadic

soul itches and yearns for something else. I cannot be certain that this is permanent but I will go as the wind goes and listen to the rhythm of my heart...though sometimes, it hurts me so. But pain is a sign of life...a symptom of existence...and when it rears its ugly head, it breaks down even the surest of us. Yes, its awful but the alternative is numbness for fuck's sake. 

"Here I Go Again" ~ Whitesnake (click above)

Getting ready to leave once again. I feel as though my life is spent in airports. The interesting thing about airports is that they represent two sides of a spectrum...they are both the happiest place and saddest place to be. On one hand, a new sense of adventure awaits (a new destination, new friends, meeting old friends etc.) and on the other, its a place full of goodbyes. I have experienced both. I have been overcome with joy and I have also cried my heart out. But as I pack for my 16 hour flight to Prague next Wednesday, I don't know how I feel yet. It hasn't quite hit me yet but I'm looking forward to my next adventure, a new chapter. 1 large suitcase and 1 backpack contains my life.