I travel, and then i get a place, then get all unraveled and depressed, so then i go travel...only to start wanting to bake, grow gardens, feel like i belong to a community and learn...so i get a place, and the cycle continues. This is one huge world. I've never really fit into the drunk punk traveler scene, but i sure love cardboard, trains, and being somewhere new. It can be a curse, you know? The wander lust. It makes it really difficult to go to school, for instance. Or develop meaningful adult relationships and a sense of community. I feel at home where ever i am, but also out of place and itching to move on. It's awesome, b/c i know no matter what, i will never see enough of this world, i will always be a traveler. Kind of like how people are always alcoholics. I forsee having land, creating meaningful work, having a long-term lover, and a place to come home to that i built myself...but i know that i will always be planning the next adventure, or willing to go if the lonely road calls.