It's funny how something familiar can all of a sudden resonate with you differently and become new again. That's where I'm at right now with, "It's All Over Now, Baby Blue." It fits so well in the context of my current situation. Obviously, that's the beauty of good lyrics, they portray universal applications to the human condition. But as far as personal matters go, the current stand-out is, "the vagabond who's rapping at your door, is standing in the cloth that you once wore."

I'm on the brink of a new chapter down here in Austin and while Dylan seems to focus on something being over, it takes endings to form beginnings. I personally don't feel any huge loss coming on, but I do sense a large sense of personal growth and accomplishment as far as social self-reliance.

Despite the departure of my childhood-friends/roommates last year, I never considered leaving Texas, though I sometimes felt displaced. I consider myself very fortunate to have made friends via grocery store encounters, craigslist roomies, co-workers, camping trips, etc. This roustabout lifestyle, and my bouts of wanderlust, allow me to relate to the roll of the vagabond. However, I'm admittedly nesting as of late, which is a big deal for this commitment-phobe. The "highway is for gamblers," and with the hand I've got, I can't bear to lose.

My self-satisfaction is tenfold with the nearing relocation of one of my best friends, Greg. His growing excitement for his move down has also been a reminder of my own experience two summers ago, for what simultaneously terrified and excited me. His desire to come to Austin not only comforts me because he provides a missing link to home, but also because it means that I've succeeded in some way. I accomplished a sense of home on my own. Perhaps I'm no longer the vagabond, but the one enticing the vagabond to establish something new. (Yes, Greg, you're the vagabond.)

Thanks, Bobby.