Creep Into Town, And It's Not Long Until I Start To Roam...
"...seek out the patches on the punks, maybe a band I know. I bet you in five minutes time, we find that we know all the same people, places, and roads. And it's not long before I start to feel, that somehow I can never leave home."
--Mischief Brew, "Punx Win"
So, whether you believe it or not, there’s a lot of stuff going on inside this crazy head of mine aside from pop punk and soda.
Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about my friends and how incredibly lucky I am to have the ones that I do. I know I’m not the easiest person to get to know, so if you’ve ever even given me a shot, I can’t thank you enough. With that, I am sincerely sorry if I’ve ever let any of you down or if I dropped the ball on keeping a friendship going at any point. I don’t think that’s ever anyone’s intention, but with constantly changing situations and circumstances, it happens; sometimes friends just grow apart, other times there’s no telling what even happened, things just stopped clicking. So friends, just know that I appreciate the role you have all had in my life up to this point, even if it may seem small. Let’s catch up sometime.
Looking back over the past four or five years of my life, the word “home” has also been in heavy rotation in my thoughts. By dictionary definition, one’s home is simply a place of permanent residence or some sort of center for affairs. As humans, however, we all strive for something more than just an address to get bills and maybe the occasional letter sent to.
While sitting on a mattress in a freezing house a few winters ago, I began to write a song around the line “home is not a place, but a group of people.” Years later, I still have different notions of what the word “home” encapsulates, as compared to the flat, dictionary definition, but I don’t know if I can honestly chalk the entire concept of home up to simply being a group of people anymore. Instead, I’m beginning to think that “home” is something we are constantly searching for.
Nothing is perfect, nor will it ever be, no matter how hard we try. The best we can do is make strides towards reaching whatever our individualized ideas of home happen to be at the given time. Maybe that means playing an instrument or writing everyday. Maybe it’s going on a 20 minute walk once a week. Maybe it takes moving across the country to realize the place you grew up wasn’t so bad after all. Maybe your steps are tiny, or maybe they’re huge. I don’t know. I guess my point is, whether “home” is real or not, I’m gonna keep going until I get there, and I’m sure I’ll be seeing a lot of you guys along the way.
So, whether you believe it or not, there’s a lot of stuff going on inside this crazy head of mine aside from pop punk and soda.
Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about my friends and how incredibly lucky I am to have the ones that I do. I know I’m not the easiest person to get to know, so if you’ve ever even given me a shot, I can’t thank you enough. With that, I am sincerely sorry if I’ve ever let any of you down or if I dropped the ball on keeping a friendship going at any point. I don’t think that’s ever anyone’s intention, but with constantly changing situations and circumstances, it happens; sometimes friends just grow apart, other times there’s no telling what even happened, things just stopped clicking. So friends, just know that I appreciate the role you have all had in my life up to this point, even if it may seem small. Let’s catch up sometime.
Looking back over the past four or five years of my life, the word “home” has also been in heavy rotation in my thoughts. By dictionary definition, one’s home is simply a place of permanent residence or some sort of center for affairs. As humans, however, we all strive for something more than just an address to get bills and maybe the occasional letter sent to.
While sitting on a mattress in a freezing house a few winters ago, I began to write a song around the line “home is not a place, but a group of people.” Years later, I still have different notions of what the word “home” encapsulates, as compared to the flat, dictionary definition, but I don’t know if I can honestly chalk the entire concept of home up to simply being a group of people anymore. Instead, I’m beginning to think that “home” is something we are constantly searching for.
Nothing is perfect, nor will it ever be, no matter how hard we try. The best we can do is make strides towards reaching whatever our individualized ideas of home happen to be at the given time. Maybe that means playing an instrument or writing everyday. Maybe it’s going on a 20 minute walk once a week. Maybe it takes moving across the country to realize the place you grew up wasn’t so bad after all. Maybe your steps are tiny, or maybe they’re huge. I don’t know. I guess my point is, whether “home” is real or not, I’m gonna keep going until I get there, and I’m sure I’ll be seeing a lot of you guys along the way.