New Jersey.

I'm sitting in a hotel room not far from New York City, in Morristown, NJ. It's a nice hotel, a Hyatt. Hotels make me feel lonely like nothing else, and I truly hate staying in them. This one, while tastefully appointed, reminds me that I'm neither here nor there, I'm not at home, but I'm not quite here either, as I'm not interacting with the actual town. I feel the same way about airports, or at least I used to, when I found myself frequently blowing time in airports in far-flung destinations around the world.

This time, it was a short flight, from Detroit to Newark, and it's a Hyatt I find myself in now. I bought a sandwich from the coffee shop downstairs, and ate it in my room, while reading an article I'll need to reference later tonight in a homework assignment.

I do think there is nothing like travel to put some thing in perspective, though. Who do you miss when you're away? That person is your home more than any house or town.

I'll be in NJ until tomorrow night, and then in New York til Sunday. I'm excited to see my friends, and to buy a present to take back home.