Monday, May 14, 2007

Waking Up at Home 1,000 Miles From Home

It has been too long for me to even pretend to say that I have been soooooooooo busy or that nothing much has really happened. I have been busy, but no one is really THAT busy, are they? And much HAS happened. I won't place "good" and "bad" labels on any of it because, to be honest, I haven't made my mind up about whether "much" has been good or bad.

I'm going to ease in to this. In this first post I will not write about my new job or barely containing an emotional meltdown during Easter service while mourning the physical loss of a great friend and great pastor (all over again) or the emotional loss of a girl I alternately miss dearly and hate madly (but who may no longer exist) or the glory of my new MacBook (which is facilitating the writing of this little check-in) or the trials and trivialities of raising a dog meant to run free with the sheeps (yes, I know sheep is the plural and the "s" was unneccesary) or how that same dog can make you feel like a doting parent one minute and an enraged, blood-thirsty hammer-murderer the next or feeling socially retarded and completely unattractive to the opposite sex in a new city in which one knows no one or talking on the phone with a wise, wise friend from San Fancisco and questioning her previously unquestionable wisdom has she suggests or dropping twenty pounds and cycling like seven hundred hells through 15 degree whether in lycra and how the loss of fat and scarcity of clothing do nothing to prevent a rapid freeze of every body part (EVERY part) or even the effects of a solitary eight hour work day on...cogent thought.

What I can touch on briefly to gentley reacquaint myself with the cold, deep pool of the blogdom are my initial impressions of the Midwest city I now call my home. In short, it's nice. I like it. My mind had plenty of time to form misconceptions during the eighteen hour drive to Middle America. Polish sausage. Brain sandwiches. Nasal accents. Smoke stacks. Obesity. Republicans. Guns. NASCAR. Flatness. More flatness. Wind. A steel mill. The humor of my bleak visions is that I was moving from Texas, a state I love dearly, but one with an over-abundance of more than a few of the aforemetnioned "bad things".

I have been pleasantly and shamefully surprised. Trees. Flowers. A river. Cyclists. Soccer. Sushi. Health food. Trader Joe's. Booze at the grocery store. Dog parks. Environmentalists. A hike and bike trail. Girls on that hike and bike trail in hemp bikinis (seriously). Museums. Parks. People who will talk to you in the grocery store. It is flat though. I now love to ride "hills" on the bike because they make me feel like a freakin' billy goat.

The best part is it's starting to feel like home.


Whitney said...

Just remember that there are some of us here that miss you and will take you to the real "hills" when you come back.

Rachel said...

Jesus tap-dancing Christ! You're finally back in the blogosphere! It's been lonely here without you.

Know what's weird about my new state? Besides the insane-o drivers with no respect for life? There's a mockingbird who lives in my backyard who sings all night long. I know this because I woke up at 3 this morning and sat drinking a huge cup of ice water in my livingroom thoroughly disoriented by this bird. No shit.

Also, the public radio station out here? Totally weird, and I love it. They're playing an hour of Latin music, but it's crazy, I've-been-up-all-night-on-drugs Latin music. This song keeps saying over and over in Spanish: "Welcome to Tijuana, we specialize in sex and marijuana. Leave your books at home. Leave your books at home." At least, I think that's what they're saying.

Send me dog pictures.

Katharine said...

Whoa - MacBook? I don't think we can be friends anymore, pinko.