Road Journal - Day 4

I've been living out of this here suitcase for way too long.

I'm not gonna lie - this was a good trip. I accomplished what I came to do, and did not experience catastrophe in any shape or form. I stepped out of my comfort zone a lot; that was good for me. I saw things I'd never seen before; that was good for me. I spent a lot of time alone; that was good for me. It was good for me to get away from the weightiness of my life for a few days.
But here's what I was taught this week: even my worst days at home... they are still at home.
So many times, me in my over-dramatic tendencies, I like to take the attitude of "I just need to get out of here". The truth is: I love home. And I'll take all of "homes" current struggles and pains and anxieties if it means that I get home. Life follows you where ever you go; its better at home. You still face the same struggles, but at least you're at home.
I'm not about to go stray.

So the other thing I learned traveling today? Motorcycle boots are hot.
There was a guy on my flight who looked like a character from a novel. He had torn up jeans, unkempt hair, a black graphic tee, a copy of Rolling Stone, and... the hottest motorcycle boots I'd ever seen. Now surprisingly enough, I typically don't go for rock stars. They just don't do it for me. But this guys boots made me take a second look. Turns out he didn't do anything for me either ;-), but those boots.... shheew.

Home, sweet home. Why does anyone ever leave Texas??


Cocaine flame in my bloodstream
Sold my coat when I hit Spokane
Bought myself a hard pack of cigarettes in the early morning rain
Lately my hands they don't feel like mine
My eyes been stung with dust and blind
Held you in my arms one time
Lost you just the same
Jolene
I ain't about to go stray
It's too late
I found myself face down in a ditch
Booze in my hair
Blood in my lips
A picture of you holding a picture of me
In the pocket of my blue jeans
Still don't know what love means
Still don't know what love means
Jolene
Been so long since I seen your face
Or felt a part of this human race
I've been living out of this here suitcase for way too long
A man needs something he can hold onto
A nine pound hammer or a woman like you
Either one of them things will do
Jolene
I ain't about to go stray
It's too late
I found myself face down in a ditch
Booze in my hair
Blood on my lips
A picture of you holding a picture of me
In the pocket of my blue jeans
Still don't know what love means
Still don't know what love means
Jolene
Jolene
Jolene