I’m writing this on a train, headed from a densely populated area to one slightly less-so, excited about the upcoming Train/Goo Goo Doll tour and reflecting on travel’s changing role in my life.

Early in my touring career, in the whacky reality of pipe dreams becoming less pipe-y, every sunset, ovation, and brush against the walled garden was MINE. Essentially overnight, I found myself with this prismatic and, I’d later appreciate, deeply confusing life, and I left my previous one swiftly and unsentimentally. 

I was, of course, running, from the failure I perceived myself to be and timidities too numerous to count, and finding yourself, such as it is, out on the proverbial dusty trail is a fool’s errand.

You can leave the bubble, experiencing and questioning and living your best life, but the bubble remains unchanged when you get back. At some point, you have to look at yourself in the mirror and see if you like the SOB with the side parting staring back at you.

And, questionable hairstyle notwithstanding, I’m proud of the progress I’ve made.