MHT

I can’t really do a post justice right now. I have been without internet for three months and it has been an eventful three months. The important thing now is that I have an internet connection, albeit a very shaky one skimmed off unwitting neighbors.

I now live in my own apartment which is nice. Things are financially bad as ever, but that’s no big deal; I’m used to it. The past couple months have been marked particularly by relationship drama of the breaking up and reuniting kind. WTF? I don’t know how people can have multiple relationships; this drama crap is tiring as all hell.

Anyway, at this point I’m engaged to the man I have bitched about so much in this blog. The insanity. I can’t believe I’m getting married. This is entirely too weird even for my spine-tingling threshold of ludicrousness.

I’ve been back in Kansas City now for a bit more than three months. I came back on my birthday which, in retrospect, was stupid. Wintery part of winter was still in effect so Rene and I rolled into a dismal scene of gray on gray. The trees were naked, dark lines. The city was gray. The sky was cold and also gray and fog further enshrouded the area making me think of all the stark portrayals of the Soviet Union and North Korea we saw on TV in the 80s. No color, no life, no way. I caught myself wishing I had accepted Rene’s offer that I move in with him in Oxnard, CA.

However, I have employment in Kansas City and I knew it wouldn’t be long before Spring would open up a riot of green from North to South, East to West. Flowers would splash across the city. Fireflies would dot the cool twilight. These were things not found in the dusty mud-raining city of Phoenix. It seems to me Phoenix is almost aptly named; the mythical bird has yet to rise from the burning ashes.

I moved in with a married couple, half of which I met back in college. A week later, Rene went back to his father’s place in California, where I helped him move a week before he helped me move out here. (I’ve seen him twice since the move. It really is ridiculous.) I started work at the only BMW motorcycle shop in a nearly three hundred mile radius. I am a service writer. I’d rather be a mechanic, as I’d be less of a buffer between many conflicting forces, but I am what I am until such time as I can get a mechanic position.

I still don’t really fit in at work. Not surprising. I don’ really even feel like I know the people I live with. No problem, because I have to move out anyway by the end of August.

There’s a discomfort in me that may never be soothed in my lifetime. I was brought up in Kansas City, Missouri, but it isn’t my home. I wanted to move to Oregon, because that is where I was born, but I doubt that is home, either. I don’t think home will ever be a place for me. I’m too wont to wander. I’d like a home, though. Maybe one day. But obviously not today.

I’ve been thinking about this a long time, if you can really call a few weeks a long time. Within a year and a half, I’ve lost the two people that ever supported me, not to mention my baby girl; my mother, David, and my niece. My niece was really the only tie left to my brother and father. Now, I don’t really have anything to do with them. Not that I didn’t do my best to be the best possible support for Shaun when he lost Breanna.

These days I have nobody to go to for advice. No support. The consequences of my mistakes are dire, especially with the American economy doing what it is. Really, it comes down to that feeling of being lost. I have a job and I can be happy in it. But the isolation and the feeling of having nobody to rely on is unpleasant in the extreme. I live in a house with three other people, but it means nothing. My room is just a place I sleep or type in.

However, that isn’t the point. No matter how hard it is at times to deal with this isolation and the lack of advice, there’s something I hadn’t considered in my self-centered scrabblings. How many people never had the support I had from the start?

I have seen so many kids with parents that don’t care about them. Worse than no advice, these poor souls get wretched advice. Where I had my mother’s support and affection for almost thirty-one years, many people never even get a single day of the same. How can anyone expect people raised in that sort of environment to make good decisions? Good living is a learned thing.

I’m not making excuses for bad behavior; even if life is difficult, we all have a vague idea of right and wrong. I simply want to point out to myself that I had it good. I had an honest mother who worked hard to raise me to be independent. In my mid teens, I gained a straight-shooting father figure who had no problems telling me when I was doing wrong. In fact, I’d say David can claim a great deal of credit for how well I’ve turned out.

Many people have had to work long and hard to better themselves because the tree they fell from was rotten. Most of my tree was great. I may feel like an orphan now, but I had a good up-bringing. The hardest part about having that up-bringing is knowing what I lost.

This is seriously late… and I have no real excuses for it. Don’t even really feel like writing. I’m doing a lot of changing right now and I’m not sure I entirely like it. Part of the change is an attempt to think less. Just saying that makes me feel strange, but I don’t know how else to explain. I over think everything. I see wheels within wheels even when dealing with shallow people. It gets in the way when I’m working on motorcycles and when I’m riding them. So when I say I don’t feel like writing so much, it may be because I’m becoming unaccustomed to it.

By the way, I have a visual representation of the differences between Honda and BMW. You may be a little surprised.

This is Honda:

And this is BMW:

Unexpected, no? The first three weeks of BMW consists of nothing but watching videos and taking tests on them. They are not interactive at all and since they are online and they buffer terribly… one can easily zone out and fall asleep. Falling asleep wouldn’t be so bad if one of the instructors didn’t have an air horn. (sigh) Such is life.

I didn’t expect it, but I did have holiday depression. I might be having it still… At any rate, I did enjoy the holidays and kept pretty active despite having a few days off from school. Emily made it to Phoenix and we went to the Grand Canyon within twenty-four hours of her arrival. Doubly cool was the snow once we got out of the valley. Rene had never experienced snow before and was happy to make his first snowball. (Who didn’t see that coming?)

We got to the canyon in the morning. In crystal cliche clarity, I was not really prepared for the size of the thing. I know people try to be blase about it when they see it and say things like, ‘So what. A big hole in the ground.’ I really can’t identify with that anymore. I only had my phone with me, so the photos I have are terrible.

The Grand Canyon is so vast that you really can’t comprehend it. Your eyes send the picture to your brain and your brain can’t translate the depth and breadth of said image. The image your brain interprets is flattened and deceptive. Once you throw some ice or a couple stones off the side, you begin to realize how confused your poor head is. I think the only way to really comprehend the Grand Canyon is to go into it. There really can be no other way unless you are accustomed to epic sights like that.

I had to work most of the week, so Emily and I didn’t get to hang out as much as I’d have liked. Also, I was house-sitting at Param’s place which meant a lot more moving around than I had intended. Emily ended up staying at Param’s place and Rene’s. I did everything in my power to keep her from having to stay in my apartment as it is such a depressing little hole.

However, even though I had to work very inconvenient hours, we managed to have a good New Year! We went out with Param to a couple of parties. I’m glad we did, because it enabled us to experience the Christmas side of living in a desert. Yes, ye olde Yule Cactus! It does exist, yes.

And here are just a couple pics at the parties. Take note: no braces! I have a really horrid retainer now that I despise more than the braces. If you look closely you can see the rubber band across my teeth that keeps the contraption in my mouth.

I hope everyone had a good holiday and that 2008 is better than 2007. If you didn’t get a card from me, I’m sorry. I have written several that i never sent… I may still throw those in the mail. If so, I hope you get a good laugh out of the tardiness!

I don’t have any resolutions to tell, you; I need to think of some. Are there any you’re going for?

The worst thing about my life right now is the lack of mobility. I feel imprisoned. I don’t like to sit still for very long; I prefer to go places and do things. Long periods spent sedentary are only tolerable during the creative process or while I am reading.

The correct sprocket for my bike finally came in, but I need to go to school to change out both sprockets and my chain. So, I am still grounded. I have my bicycle, but there’s nowhere nearby to go. I’d go somewhere with Rene but his brain is permanently stuck on, I don’t have $ for gas. Like being a bird with salt on my tail.

I wrote that over a week ago, before my mountain bike got stolen and before taking off my back wheel only to discover they ordered me the wrong sprocket for the third time. Having my bicycle stolen made me feel even worse. I went from a bird with salt on her tail to a bird with bloody stumps for wings. However, I feel better because Rene and I got out of the city on Monday for the holiday. We went to Sedona and hiked Secret Mountain wilderness’ West Fork trail. Getting out in forested nature and walking along a stream was perfect. Much of the wood’s leaves were all over the ground, but that didn’t bother me at all. I got one day of what felt like true Autumn and I got to enjoy it in beautiful red rock surroundings. What’s more, I even managed to take my 35mm with me! I didn’t take a lot of pictures, but I hope the ones I took turn out well. Of course, my handy phone cam was there, too.

Go here for the cheesy pic of the two of us in the same scenic trail end photo op.

Sedona was beautiful; probably one of the most beautiful places in the world to live. You have red rock elements indicative of desert surroundings, but a vast green array of dark pines and more leafy tree varieties. Rene and I supposed it would take a lot of money to live there. It would also be good to have fuel injection for your vehicle be cause the elevation changes so much. And an open mind with tongue-in-cheek sense of humor would go a long way to make your stay in Sedona perfect. Because along with the natural beauty and wonderful hiking opportunities you will be surrounded with a thriving art community as well as a booming New Age community. I’ve never seen so many crystal shops, tarot reading offerings, and the like in such a small area in my life. Nor have I seen so many art galleries. Art tours and Vortex tours were being offered everywhere. (Rene and I were lucky enough to discover a book titled What Is A Vortex? that could answer said question while in Ravenheart coffee shop.)

Did I mention the hippies? (wink) There were a lot of hippies. Oddly enough, there were fewer tattooed moments in Sedona. Phoenix must sport the most square inches of inked skin in America. Serious. Kind of odd, though, because tattooing isn’t regulated in Arizona: a bad thing. I also did not see the massive amounts of dirt bike affiliate wear you see on every kid in sight like one does in Phoenix. Yes, I think that’s what I will take away from my time in Phoenix: visions of inked skin and everyone wearing dirt bike name brands… (There seem to be two modes of teenage angstwear in Phoenix: vestiges of goth cum emo and dirt bike hooligan.)

The four or five hour hike in the forested canyon we went through was definitely worth the trip. And it only took us one full tank of gas to get there. Basically, $20 each. Think it did wonders for my spirit to get out in the woods. It always does. Not to mention how friendly everyone on the trail was. That was kind of weird! Maybe I’ve become too city, but having every single person greet us on the trail was both cool and a little strange. Nice, though. Something that I could get used to.

Have a job interview tomorrow and should replace my sprockets and chain on Saturday. Things are looking like they could improve drastically. If you are the type, please remember me in your prayers.

(Since details are kind of important this time, I didn’t resize my crappy phone pictures. This means the page looks ugly.)

There was an international motorcycle show this weekend and Rene and I were in attendance. It was basically a showcase for all the 2008 models. Being MMI (Motorcycle Mechanic Institute) students, we found it really interesting to talk shop with dealers. I also found that my level of knowledge about the products was much higher than I expected. I knew more than most of the riders there which really surprised me. It also lifted up my confidence level.

I had a couple favorite stops at the show and got to throw a leg over a lot of 2008 bikes, not to mention some exotics. By and large, though, I did find my legs too short for most of the sport bikes. I had no difficulty on the 250s, but 500s and up were just too high for my inseams.

Rene, of course, had no problem sitting his favorite: a beautiful Honda CBR.

Honda was fun, since we watched the promotional video for the 2008 models in class on Friday. The most fun, I think was checking out the Goldwings. These things are massive touring bikes with GPS, 6 CD changers, iPod docks, seat and grip heaters, airbag… the works! An electrical nightmare for a mechanic. It was kind of annoying to me, though, when I was standing and talking to a couple of guys about how the GPS system and airbags work, because the Honda rep came up and encouraged me to sit in the ‘back seat’ to see how comfortable it was.

Okay. I understand. The Goldwing is a bike for couples. Retired couples. And women are rarely the pilots. But while my head understands, my emotions are quicker to react. I tried it out, to be civil (it really is comfortable!), but then I plopped down into the saddle and said while it was way too big for me, I preferred the rarefied air of the cockpit.

The other point of interest was a dealer showing off their exotic and boutique bikes. When we got over there, though, we laughed because we knew the dealership. They were showing Benelli, Aprilia, MotoGuzzi, and Bimota. In fact, they had a Tesi 3D and a Delirio. Jeremy, the parts guy we knew, encouraged me to sit the Delirio. Rene and I were probably the only two people who were dirt poor who got to sit that bike. There was actually an ulterior motive to this, though.

Jeremy insisted the bike was very uncomfortable to sit on, but when I threw my leg over it felt fine. In fact, my feet easily touched the ground. The Delerio is also extremely light, with a seat that really grips a rider. But right away, I could tell something very interesting about this $30,000 USD bike.

It was made for a woman.

Nimble, light, low seat that could only be comfortable for one man: Ken. I told Jeremy immediately that it was made for a woman. He got really excited and asked me why I would say that and I gave him my reasons. Turns out that that he was really wanting to get a female on the bike because he and some other guys from the shop had thought the same thing. The Delerio isn’t advertised toward women (as rare as the bike is, it has to sell some units, you know), but it is definitely meant for them. It doesn’t hurt that the bike looks like the perfect instrument to sign your name across the asphalt in burning rubber.

The other point of interest at the show was a vendor that Jeremy pointed out to us. W8less fabricates and sells ceramic alloy rotors. Hannah is probably the only person that knew this, but one of the things I most wanted to learn about at school was the application of ceramics in motorcycles. My interest is engines, but rotors are equally interesting (rotors are the discs that brake pads clamp onto to slow a vehicle down).

The point is; this is the future. I’ve always known ceramics could be used for diverse applications, but actually seeing it made my day. These guys are going to make a mint on these rotors. Anything that can turn a Harley Sportster stop in half the time while weighing 75% less than a stock rotor is going to make bank. In fact, the American reps from Bimota were actually on hand at the show and were very interested in the product. Making a sport bike three pounds lighter is a huge deal.

I’m going to try to keep in touch with these guys. You never know; I might work for them someday.

We’ve all heard of people who walk, talk, or wet the bed in their sleep, but did you know you can spit? I was sleeping pretty lightly this morning when I heard a noise and something wet hit my face. WTF? I wondered. I reached up and felt the wet glob on my nose and upper lip. At first, I thought Rene had sneezed, but soon figured out he had spit.

I declared his act disgusting and wiped it on him. He was groggy and clueless. I explained what had happened and he, predictably, found it hysterical. He’d been having a dream that he was at a U2 concert and there were slides being shown of children while Bono was telling people that children were being made slaves. One of the photos showed the image of a boy dressed as a terrorist and loaded with all sorts of weapons. Apparently, that was what Rene was spitting at. He’s done some other odd things in his sleep, but that takes the prize.

Tomorrow I get the front and back sprockets for my ZX-6R. Rene and I took a ride with Param up North with the intention, at first, of hitting Flagstaff. As we went along, this plan became less grandiose; we would go to Prescott. After Param missed the exit for Prescott, we flagged him down and exited at ‘Prescott National Forest’ to make a new plan. It wasn’t much of a forest.

(hey, Fadh, note the Yoshimura exhaust? baby has a K&N airbox, too. ah, and three stage jetting. fuel injection would be better, but beggars and choosers don’t mix.)

At that point we were basically out of the valley and we discovered the immense difference in temperature! We had been enjoying pleasant sunny weather in the mid 80s back in Phoenix. Outside the valley it was more like 65 F. We were freezing! It was decided that we should beat a hasty retreat back to Phoenix, maybe cruise Lake Pleasant, then go to Rene’s place to do a little barbecue.

We stuck to this plan. Unfortunately, by the time we got to Lake Pleasant I was in a lot of pain. A couple weeks ago, Rene accidentally hit a pole with my right side passenger foot peg and broke half of the bracket. This rendered the foot peg slanted and attached only by the bolt going through the other half of said bracket. I didn’t like putting my weight on it, so I tucked my feet in closer to the frame, which put most of the weight on my ankles instead of my feet. This was not comfortable.

We stopped at the marina entrance because they wouldn’t let us proceed on our bikes. There was a random burro walking around the entrance eating a patch of manicured grass. I tried to take a pic, but he didn’t want me nearby. So, all I got was a pic of Rene and I. I can’t remember what made him take that expression.

In order to ease my ankles, Param offered to let Rene and I take his Kawasaki Z1000 and he would ride my bike. The Z was really upright! It had no handles in back for me too hold onto and being upright, I couldn’t brace myself on the tank. The whole ride home was a little nerve-wracking, because I had to hold Rene the entire way. However, that engine just purred and the ride was super smooth.

Ah, there’s the update. Might try to write a post about my Honda classes tomorrow. I’ll see how it goes.

I went mountain biking with some guys from school. I was not prepared for hardcore rocky desert terrain. I ate it twice. The first from great height; the sort of crash you would be hospitalized for without a helmet and which… made me cross-eyed for about five minutes. If not for the helmet my head would have hit a craggy rock about the size of a melon

Pretty much a scabby and bruised mess, especially since my second wreck skinned my right shoulder. I don’t know where the big raspberry on my stomach came from. I think I may be limping tomorrow. Want pics? It probably sounds worse than it looks. Dunno.

If only my brother where with me; I could ask him to take pictures of my injuries. (That was an inside joke, eh?) Hannah’s favorite story about my brother is how he got into a very injurious skateboard accident. I came home to find him a bloody wreck comprised of swaths of skinless meat and gashes. The first thing he said through teeth gritted with pain and massive swelling: Glenys…! Get the camera…! Gonna get a free subscription to Thrasher magazine…!

Ah. Sweet brother of mine. You are a screwed up man, but how fondly I look on our childhood together.

In other news, though I avoid eating octupus (for the same reason I wouldn’t eat dolphin), Cynthi brought me home some octopus salad from Germany. I’m pretty sure the salad is Italian, but I wouldn’t like to look a gift horse in the mouth. So. I got home from the adventure and I was starrrving. Oh yes. And there’s little to know gluten-free food in the house. I opted to open the jar.

And, my oh my, is that stuff good! I’m a bit ashamed, but it tastes wonderful. Yummy, tasty, shame!

I over-brewed my tea. Sad face. But it will still be good with the marzipan my roomie brought back from Germany.

I miss many things since I moved to Phoenix. Current events, being comfortable with my habitation and people, rain, snow… and intellectual things. I miss intellectual conversations. I miss exploring abstract concepts. I miss the sensation of sending my mind into deep contemplation of random complex controversies on ethics, politics, literary endeavors, etc… My mind thirsts even as it struggles to devour the workings of electricity. Oh, brain, what a fickle thing you are.

I miss the blog entries from when I first got out of college. I was thinking so much, had so many ideas, so many interesting concepts to explore. And here I have been for the last year or more with nothing of interest to say or do. It seems that what was once a sharp intellect has become a blunt implement. Oh, brain, how fallible you have become.

I will say this; my mechanical ability has improved and is growing. I am not afraid to dismantle things I used to eye with suspicion. I have confidence in my approach. Have I blunted my mind with mechanics or with neglect? I don’t have answer to that, but I suspect it is the lack of NPR and writing that are truly taking my edge of late. Of course, I lacked neither one year ago. But I was also a very busy person.

I had a dream after crashing out after class today. I dreamt I was in Japan and I was walking through a grassy park. It was exquisite in amber sunset with slate clouds against white thunderheads. In the park were beautiful and unusual iris, rippling in the wind like wheat fields in Kansas. Instead of three stands and three falls, they had two of each, but were quite broad. They were quite obviously iris, but reminded me a bit of oysters. They were strange in color; dark rusty orange or a marine blue-green.

The first thing that came to mind was that I needed to take a picture for my mother. I wished for my digicam, but all I had was my 35mm. My 35mm is out of battery power, so I was sure it wasn’t taking pictures, but to make matters worse (and bizarre) there was a white fuzzy growth coming out of the the seams just around the viewfinder. It made getting the picture a challenge.

Soon enough, the growth seemed to disappear (likely my brain forgot about it), and I was trying to line up my shot, despite the swaying leaves and stems. As I was taking the camera in and out of focus, I realised there were spiders underneath the voluptuous flowers. They were mostly black; like black widows. But rather than sporting any hourglass, the aft end of their abdomens was dusted white, with perfect black spots. I wasn’t scared, I even thought they looked kind of cool.

The next part gets a little fuzzy. I’m not sure how it happened, but some of their webbing got caught on me. Next thing I knew, it was adhered, along with the spiders that didn’t jump ship (as instinct would dictate), to the inside of my right pant leg, right around the hem. This did not freak me out excessively, despite my calm knowledge that this kind of situation would in all reality drive me utterly into a mindless panic wherein I probably wouldn’t even know who the heck I was.

My solution was to try not to think of all the little black bodies attached to the hem and inside of the pant leg, all around my ankle of my favorite pair of jeans. This seemed to work, even though I could feel them moving. I think I went to work this way. (Obviously no longer in Japan.) As long as I didn’t think about it, I was okay. However, when I got to work an older lady saw them and began to panic. This caused me to begin completely freaking out. It was the look of horror on her face. I told her to stop looking terrified and I’d be fine. She did her best, but it was hard.

In the end, I had to cut off the bottom fourth of the pant leg to get them off. Only to find them in the ankle of my sock. I was calm and horrified at the same time as I pulled the sock off and always in wonder at how well I was taking it.

When Rene came to pick me up, I showed him my ankle and it was dotted with scabs from all the places the spiders had been biting me. They were biting me and injecting me with those lovely stomach acids, so they could suck up tiny bits of liquid flesh. Since they were small, they didn’t do a heck of a lot of damage.

I never really used to have dreams about spiders, but I have had a lot of them lately. I usually run away from them even though they are small. It is that instinct within me. I’m not sure what the spiders mean in this dream. Perhaps there are fears that I am living with that I’m living with until other people make me realise I shouldn’t. I don’t know.

Later on, I dreamt that Ginger, my mother’s dog, came running up to me. She was ecstatic to see me. She jumped all over me. I can still hear her claws on the concrete as she raced to me along the sidewalk. I don’t know what happened to the guy I gave her to, but she had come to find me. I was really happy to see her, especially being so giddy to see me. At the same time, though, I didn’t want the burden of responsibility in taking care of her. It dampened my joy in having her a little bit, but I remained happy. I miss Ginger.

I don’t know if I ever mentioned last year that I had to find Ginger a home. I knew I couldn’t be home enough for her. She needs a constant presence. That’s what made losing my mother so hard for her. She loved my mother with every fiber of her being and being with her 100% of the time was how it had to be or Ginger was miserable.

With the help of one of my mother’s friends, I found Ginger a home just two blocks away from the nursing home. The young man has MS and I cannot understand his speech at all for the way the disease has twisted his body and jaw, but he wanted a a constant presence at his side. I know she’s happy with him and she definitely makes that whole little community happy. But it doesn’t mean that i don’t miss her.

Lately, because I want advice and guidance from a parental figure, I’ve been thinking of my mother and David all the time. I don’t know how I will ever get used to the abyss that still remains where support once was. When he dies I don’t know how my father will ever deal with the grief of knowing he was never there when I needed him.

Um. That got depressing. In lighter news; I was shop foreman in class today. It was a nutty day. One of the boys sprayed me with the water hose because I accidentally slapped his butt with my clipboard. One of the guys I had to supervise managed to drop a Rebel (the lightest bike we have!) and somersaulted into a metal work bench in the process. And I got invited to go mountain biking with some guys from my batch. Did I mention that I’m the only person in this class from my batch?

Yeah. I need to update about being in Honda at some point. Anyway, this is the entry that should have been called blather!

It has been many long weeks, months even, since I bought a new CD. The depths of what a spoiled American may call poverty, have made me feel guilty buying things that I cannot use or eat. But the other day I was weak in the face of a very cheap Ladytron CD I haven’t been able to find. I bought it, of course, during one of my retarded bouts of ‘growing my willpower’ where I annoy myself needlessly by refraining from certain things I like. This time I was not listening to music until Saturday.

I finally got to listen to Ladytron’s, 602, at work last night. It made me feel better since I was gluten-bombed that morning. It was kind of strange listening to the CD, because I kept thinking of how I should have bought Bjork’s new album instead… Also, Blixa was where I listened to all my new CDs. I’d come up with somewhere far away to drive to and take the new CD and bask in the glow of Blixa’s superior sound system.

Listening to a new CD in a clock radio at work is an extreme disappointment. Actually, the CD itself is a bit of a letdown, too. If 602 had been the first Ladytron CD I had ever heard, I wouldn’t have known the greatness which they were later responsible for. There are a couple stand out tracks, but most of it is coming off as forgettable digital rock.

But my point, my waylaid and belated point, is that it feels really good to listen to a new CD. I had forgotten that excitement. The curiosity fulfilled with each track, yet the anticipation that lives in your soul simultaneously for the next one. Even though this CD isn’t to my personal taste, I still had the pleasure of listening to something new. I missed it. How sweet it is to experience something not tasted in so long.

In other news, of the educational kind; I have finished all my clinics and will start in my manufacturer classes as of tomorrow. Tomorrow is the first day of my Honda education. Goldwings, and CBRs, and watercraft, oh my!

I don’t think I have class with any of the people I went through my clinics with. I think I will only know Victor (we work at the same place) and some boy from Advanced Electrical. And Victor is having financial problems and might get kicked out of class tomorrow.

Though Rene and I have the same classes, he’ll be in BMW. In twelve weeks we’ll trade out. I’ll go into BMW and he’ll go into Honda. And after that… I think… it looks as if… I may have to go back to Kansas City. I don’t want to. Also, for those who want to pry into my love life; Rene will go back to Oxnard.

No matter where I go in March, at least it won’t be Phoenix. I don’t know what it is about the people here, or the city itself, but it hasn’t been easy to enjoy. Perhaps because of school, finances, and work, I have not been able to get out and truly enjoy this city. I have not been to the museums or to the galleries. Things I want (Asian groceries, for example) are easy to find, but that’s not reason enough to live here. Heck, if it were, I’d just move to Asia. It isn’t the heat (120 F is freakish, though) or dry terrain. Well, it may be the lack of rain; as I love rain.

No, it really seems to be the character of Phoenix. The rudeness of the drivers. The unfriendliness of many of the people. The superficialness at every turn. And to make things worse; the area I live in has very little character. Barnes & Noble/Target/Harkins Theatre/Home Depot/Ross package blocks are stamped all over the homogeneous urban sprawl to such an extent that it is very difficult at times to figure out which one of these package deals is the one near your own home.

Ah, but enough of my complaining and blather. Having been gluten-bombed, I’m really tired and should probably get a nap in.