Last week I was in Houston for my step-brother's wedding. I got back a few days ago, and I just realized something.
For the first time since 1996, I don't have any airplane tickets or road trips lurking around any corners. No more college or grad school travel, summer internships in distant cities, weddings, vacations, weekends away. For the first time in the second half of my existence on this good earth, gentle reader, I am in San Diego, home. Indefinitely...
And it feels strangely good.
Strange, because I have never imagined I wouldn't want to hop on the next plane anywhere. Strange, because I left San Diego for college thinking I'd never move back. It was a very different city in the late 90s -- approximately 322% lamer. But I moved back in 2008, and to my amazement I haven't been bored a single day. In fact, this city rocks. Even after two years, there are museums I still need to explore, restaurants I have yet to try, and SoCal rituals to experience (watching the grunions, blowing off work on a Tuesday and going to the beach, buying overpriced real estate, recalling my governor... what else am I missing?).
Oh yes, and askings to report.
If you've been reading this blog for a while, you know by now how I operate: disappear a week or two and gather stories to tell, then publish a bunch of updates. So... it's update time.
[image credit: ffffound.com]
