It’s seems that my time in Singapore has come to an end. This Saturday I’ll board a variety of aircraft that will ultimately lead to the doorstep of my adopted home in North Carolina. I’m not sure I fit there anymore…assuming I ever did. Still, they’ll be friends to see and errands to run so I’m sure my To Do list will buy me a little denial time. But that’s just an illusion.

The truth it seems is that I’m a change junky…a khaki clad nomad itching for the open road. I haven’t even unpacked and already I’m planning, scheming, twitching with the type of anticipatory energy bookies call the money shakes.

And so the question becomes: what’s next? There’s New York. There’s always New York. And as much as I’d love to revisit the Apple and the friends of my youth, I’ve never met a man who moved ahead by going backwards. There’s D.C. A flock of family makes that a tempting destination to be sure, but me in a government town is like a clown in a cardigan.

It’s sobering really, to have houses but no home, to have lovers but no loved one, to have clients and contacts, but very few friends. I’m not sure if that speaks to my priorities, my path, or the unrelenting influence of my past. In any case, the message is clear enough and it’s high time I got the point.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the last lines of the above titled, Billy Joel ballad.

“…I’ll drive into town 


When this big bird touches down 


I'm only comin' home to say goodbye 


Then I'm gone with the wind 


And I won't be seen again 


Till that Great Suburban Showdown in the sky”

Yes, it seems I’ve been running in the wrong direction for all the wrong reasons. I’m not sure where I’ll ultimately arrive, but one thing is clear, it’s time to change course.

Author note: Just kidding….I don’t wear khakis.