I'd like some Whine with that Cheese...

I got spanked (again) in the comments over the last post. And that's how it should be. I definitely have this penchant for becoming whiney and petulant when I'm feeling down and lonely. I hold highly unrealistic expectations of people who I need/want help from and I get stuck in a sort of low grade annoying little depression. At times like that I need someone to look me in the face, slap me across the cheek and yell "SNAP OUT OF IT!"

To answer the questions... I don't think ANYTHING will make it home when I get there... The Crescent City already IS my home. It was home before I left California in July. Like San Francisco was home the first time I walked down Haight Street with my parents on vacation, well before I left Arizona 28 years ago, New Orleans was home the very first time I heard Dr. John at 14.I've been headed for the Crescent City since that first taste of Gumbo, the first rattle of bones and the first time that deep, hot, humid air seeped into my pores like a ghost taking possesion of my body. In the days since I ran away I have been bereft in ways that I didn't even understand myself. I have been becalmed and aimless, wandering about like The Ancient Mariner.

It is indeed, hard to live, and like so many of the things in life the problem is not one thing or another, but more often, one thing AND another. Home is indeed a place, but it is also the journey itself. How that dichotomy is individually experienced has everything to do with how a person engages the process.

There's a song that Tom Petty did that talks about this experience. I've got a version I like better than his by Melissa Etheridge,and it speaks to this sense that even when things are spun out of control, it's important to remember who you are, where you belong and where the ground is.