Home is where the heart is

I am lying in bed on my Saturday night which is something I absolutely HATE doing but I my body is practically screaming for rest. I'm listening to some voice memos that I recorded during our trip to Singapore and India, compiling my ~research!~ for uni and also compiling some potential samples to use in my work over the next few weeks. 

Ever since I came home, I've been having the strangest dreams that I can only remember in segments. Small Indian children denying the money I'm trying to give them in perfect, Australian-accented English...impossible mountains that I must climb...planes and fields and small hotel rooms. I don't know what it all means, but I do know that a huge part of me has changed, or opened, even. I think I've finally realised the true meaning of the phrase home is where the heart is. I was so far from my house and my town when I was in India, but because I still slept in my love's arms and kept the company of the people I love I was home. And now back in Australia I'm home too, with my mama, and papa, and sisters and family all around me and I don't need my house, or my local gym or anything like that to tell me that I am. And I guess in the same vein, I love music so much, and I love performing so much, with all of my heart, that it makes sense for me to feel restless when I haven't sung or played or performed in a while. 

I haven't written a single lyric today that hasn't made me cringe, I hate everything I write! And I wish I could see it with indifferent eyes, but I can't, and I'm too lame to show it to anyone else to ask for advice. So I've just been listening to Laura Marling and not believing that I haven't really listened to her until now. I suck!!!