Well, okay, that, and the fact that anyone I want to call for a chat at 10 PM will likely be asleep, because they're all on Central or Eastern Standard Time. That's weird.

I arrived here at about 4:30 PM (Pacific Time), and my uncle and I unloaded the van. My roommates got home shortly thereafter, and we've been hanging out.

After three days on the road with my uncle, I don't have anything bad to say about him. I found myself reaching for things to privately make fun of him for, just for sarcasm's sake, and that is small and mean. I got nuthin'. My uncle is one of the kindest human beings I've ever had the privelege to meet, and I'm proud to call him family. Sure, our political ideals and lifestyles may differ, (his make me feel caged, mine would likely appall him,) but he is sweet and giving, and is at constant work to better himself. During the road trip from Chicago, we got along wonderfully, and managed to laugh at many things that would frustrate most people. I love him.

My uncle and I were driving through Utah, right? We stopped in Park City, home of the 2002 Winter Olympics. The last notable place along route 80, before getting to Salt Lake City. We parked the car, got out, and it began to HAIL. Proof that when people like me approach Mormon country, it gives a jumpstart to the Rapture.

The hailstorm didn't last long, though. Fuck, but Utah is gorgeous. I wasn't expecting that.

Ziggy, my cat, travelled with us like a feline Zen trooper. He curled up cozily between the seats, and never cried. Every once in a while, he climbed up on my or my uncle's lap, but other than that, he was content for the whole journey. He's in my uncle's house in Nevada right now, and I miss him horribly.

I discovered that I wasn't desperate for a cigarrette during the two days when I was on the road. That's very comforting. I'm not promising I'll quit immediately, but I know I should because of both health and budget, and now I know that I can. I just don't quite wanna.

My bedroom is a tiny little box with what seems like thousands of windows. My good-sized closet is covered in mirrors, which makes the room seem larger and sunnier than it is. My roommates were nervous that I would find the room to be too small, but I love it. I love nooks, where I can sit with my legs curled up to my chest and feel warm. Those spaces are mine. I can roll from my bed to the balcony and look at the trees. My balcony is right outside the window, and wraps around much of the second floor. At night, I can see the stars. Its been years since I could count on the stars.

The first person to call me after my arrival was Dean, who thought I was still on the road. It was completely awesome that the first phone call I received as a California resident, was from a relatively local friend who was looking forward to seeing me.

"DRIVE FASTER!!!" he said.

"BLARGH! I'm here! I just had a glass of wine and a piece of pie on my back porch! Stop yelling!"

"That's better."

So, I'm here. I'm full. My house seems huge. HUGE.

It's just past midnight, and of the four people who are currently home, I'm the only one who's awake. I'm being very quiet, in a way that seems conspicuous for me. I've lived alone for over two years, and it's been a while since I thought my nocturnal tendencies could have any bearing on any other living creature. I guess it's good that I'll have to relearn how to be considerate.

I have to say something...

I think this move could be really great for me. I've received a lot of encouragement from people, you guys included, and I've been tentative to agree with it. For some reason, it's scary to think that I might be exactly where I want to be. Yeah, sure, life will happen, difficulties will arise. I mean, I'm unemfuckingployed. That ain't good. But this just feels right. Maybe it's the stars, or the dog, or the roommates, or the fact that when I walk to the street right outside my door, I can look to my left and see the not-so-distant city of San Francisco 100% SPARKLING in the background. Maybe it's the fact that my roommates were as happy to welcome me as I was to arrive.

I've become accustomed to feeling completely autonomous, as if nothing I did had any effect on anyone I know, as long as my actions went unannounced and undetected. Since childhood, I think I've constructed a lot of my identity around the possibility to remain invisible. I don't know why I've ever done this, other than through an overprotection of my sense of freedom. I chose my communities, and the ways in which I disclosed myself to the people involved. Sometimes, this was selfish and unhealthy. Now, I'm living with people I respect, and I'll be going to school for something service-related, in a subject in which I hope to excel. And, this is fucking terrifying to say, but I really think it will work out.

Sorry I'm not so poetic tonight. It's just that I promised I'd tell you when I got here. I'm sure I have more to say, I just can't think of it right now.

I have to go unwrap my mattress so that I have something to sleep on. I have to get up tomorrow and look for a job.

Good night. Thanks. Really.

~ Last Five Entries ~

This meme's for the balcony, and the next meme's for the floor ... - 09.08.05

Arm-in-Arm Down Burgundy - 09.05.05

Motivated! - 08.25.05

Moths, and Relative Nonsense - 08.18.05

I Finally Have Internet Access in my Bedroom. But, No Ashtray. - 08.09.05

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BUY JEN'S BOOK! BUY IT! DO IT!

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BUY DEAN'S BOOK, TOO! YOU KNOW YOU WANNA! SERIOUSLY.

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