Lyrics from Home by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros.
But let’s talk about Home by Michael Buble.
Oh Michael Buble. Were you really born in the age of Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra and are living through some kind of Benjamin Button situation where you age backwards? So you’re really like…70 but look in your 30s? You have the most amazing, classic, voice like them.
I love the covers Buble does and I love his attempt at pop music (Hollywood Died) but my favourite song by him is without a doubt “Home.” I started listening to it when I was in England and it’s just…such a downer (not as much as “Someone Like You” by Adele, just to be clear).
“Maybe surrounded by a million people; I still feel all alone. I just wanna go home.”
Which, in the entire time I was in England…I didn’t really get homesick. I mean, sureee I missed American google and watching TV but really, I think I did pretty good. Oh Michael Buble, trying to trick me into be sad!
I think the great paradox of traveling for me though is that when I’m on the road, all I want is to be home. And not “home” in the sense of specifically my house. Just “home” like “normal.” I’m such a creature of habit but I’m also a person who likes change. (Trust me, it’s a confusing kind of person to be). So we’d be jetting off to some random country and I’d be like “man, can’t wait to get back to England!” or I’d be in NOLA for work and I’d think “man, can’t wait to drive my car again!”
Home is routine. Home is my favourite shampoo. Home is the books on my shelves, my laptop (I don’t typically travel with my personal laptop and when we’re apart for weeks on end…I get sad). Home is knowing all the streets and not getting lost…often. Home is the Chipotle on Center Ridge. It’s waking up at 630 every day. It’s so many things.
To make matters worse is this line: “Another airplane, another sunny place, I’m lucky I know but I wanna go home.”
This is, perhaps, one of my most favourite lyrics ever because it epitomizes my life. When I think of the number of people who will never leave their hometowns it’s makes me think how lucky I am to travel for work and play. I feel like a brat for complaining that I had to live with sub-par room service somewhere. Or that the rental Camero we got was so low to the ground and scary to drive. I’m lucky, I know.
So good job, Buble. You’ve simultaneously made me feel sad and wanting to go home and like a jerk because I’ll be in some amazing place and complaining about wanting to go home.
And today’s random photo? A random church/castle down by Bourbon St. in New Orleans.