I currently have two homes, and they can’t possibly be any more opposite from one another. There are the loud and the quiet; the crowded and the lonely; the large and the small; the demanding and the free. I have now been given the ability to take advantage to free time because there is no possible way to find a job. I came back from Santa Barbara from school for the summer, all the way down to San Diego, to find a job so that I can have some money for the summer. Because of the screw hole of a job market that the previous president George Bush has made, it takes a god damn doctorate degree to even get a job as a dish washer. The job market is more saturated and over flowed then an above ground pool in a hurricane. There is no chance of getting a job; but on the more seldom positive side, I do have a lot more time to get some actual creative work done.

I don’t have very many friends in this original home; my birth and childhood home. I don’t necessarily mind it so much. All of these little bastards in this town are just trying to become famous in the most pretentious and superficial ways possible. In fifteen years time they are all going to realize that they were dumb little cretins with everything to gain and they ended up losing everything because they didn’t work at it. They need to learn they have to just f***ing dive in, or nothing will happen. They have to take action and not just sit on their ass and get drunk. No one ever remembers anything simple conversation that has happened while just sitting around a table. Think of any memory that you’ve had, there is a very good chance that that major entertaining memory was an action and not a verbal experience.

It ended up being a twelve hour drive when it was supposed to only be maybe 3 hours. Hard rock was being loudly pumped through the radio the whole time to keep me awake. I love being whisked away on the stimulants of loud rock and roll. The bright lights and stiff seats warm me and my imagination occupies me with loud lights and rustling dramas.

An hour south of Santa Barbara is Oxnard. This is a large garden town that consists of mostly strawberry field, a navy base, and a ton of random low life scum; well, in my eyes at least. I originally had to meet my dad at his house there top drop off an array of different things to keep at his house as I was moving all of my things out of my apartment in Santa Barbara for the summer. It turned out that last minute I had to meet him at a California Pizza Kitchen in a mall near his house. He was with my step mom, my step mom’s mom and mom step mom’s son. I wasn’t supposed to mention Las Vegas at all because he was taking them all there for a surprise for his 21st birthday. My older brother was going on this trip with them, and he was taking his girlfriend. I wasn’t invited on this trip.

Earlier that same day, in Santa Barbara, I had spent to entire morning attempting to stuff my car full with everything that I owned. Bed sheets, pillows, technology, clothes, and a lot of small things that I don’t even necessarily need. With every time that I move, I increasingly begin to think about how none of these things truly matter. It helps you realize what really is a luxury and what are the necessities. The car was filled up so much that it was a hassle to close the trunk all the way, and the only thing I could see in the rear-view mirror were my colorful bed sheets that I had to stuff in the back seat. I could hardly reach the e-brake under the pile of clothes and hangers.

Before I left the hot mid-June heat of the north, I said good-by to my close friends, and a headed for the south. It is a strange feeling to leave a place that you’ve been for a year; leaving all of your friends and familiarity for four months. It almost feels like being born again. It is an ecstatic feeling when you get back home because everything is new, but all of the fear is gone because everything is already so familiar.
The wind has turned grey and the long hard road is hot. The music is loud as the hard weight of all of my belongings stashed in my car is draining all of my fuel faster than I’ve experienced it before. I happen to like long drives. I love having to ability to sit, listen to good music, and take an inward trip throughout my thoughts; all as I’m making progress toward a previously set location. It’s beautiful. At certain points the road widens out and opens and invites me in like a mothers hug. At other times it creeps in a narrows and squeezes you and other random metal horses together like metal spam. It really wrecks your nerves into something vicious. I fight through it with all of my rage.
After hungrily finding the California Pizza Kitchen, I meet my dad my step mom, her mom and her son at a table where they have already finished eating and were now ordering dessert. He had already ordered a large pepperoni pizza for me and it was sitting on the table waiting for me. I finished the entire large pizza and a cup of black coffee before they could finish their dessert. I even help them finish their dessert. I have always had the ability to eat massive amounts of food while still staying whip thin. It’s a great talent to have these days. After we all finished and after my dad footed the bill, we all went to the department store upstairs. My dad is probably the world’s greatest window shopper. It seems as though he gets more of a thrill out of simply looking and seeing what things certain places have then actually buying anything. We went to the men’s clothing section where he had me try on suits. Not to buy anything, just because he wanted to see how I would look in a suit. We’d walk through the aisles and he’d pick out a suit jacket, take it off of the hanger, and tell me to try it on. Not ask—tell. If he likes it and thinks that it looks good on me then he’d tell me to run over to the mirror and look at myself, probably hoping that I could experience the kick that he was getting out of all of this. My older self would, but not in this age. I had to get home; this just felt like a waste of time. I had to get on the road. Ah the long and wonderful road. It calls me; I love the feeling of just going. It’s a feeling of displacement strung up with hope and lust. All of the fear just drips on my head like a wet egg and a cold shower. After leaving my step mom and her family at the mall, my dad and I went to his house so that I could drop off some things that I had to keep at his place. Then I was off and down the road.

Driving down the long interstate 5 freeway. I can now see things that look all familiar. The signs, the houses, the restaurants, the landmarks. It is old and dull and all too familiar, but I loved it. The sense of a change and a new start in a new time. These weren’t the signs of my childhood, they were the signs that a new time and a new life experience was starting. I already missed my friends to death. It almost brought me to tears. The dawn was bellowing and running with fear, but the night was rising like a mating desert hawk.