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No matter how many breath mints I put in my mouth its never enough to overcome the chronic halitosis of the person on the bus next to me.

A couple days ago I got this card:

Thankyou once again for all your hospitality you’ve shown us during our west coast visit. [We] had a great time with you all - memories that we will hold dear…

“As apples of gold in silver carvings is a word spoken at the right time for it.” The really cool thing about this card is that it wasn’t bought at a store. It was hand made. I never thought it would feel this good to have someone take their time, energy and their skills to make something personalized just for me. Its amazing the effect we can have on one another.

One day I’d love to have a Bead and Breakfast. I find that I really like having friends over. I like sharing the really cool things about this city with friends from other parts of the country. Of course while I’m at it one day I’d love to have a restaurant and I’d like to learn how to play the guitar and I’d like to learn how to apply differential equations to solve common problems…

And the list goes on.

So last weekend I took a trip back to my old stomping grounds. As I pass through the filthy streets and the dark dull grey buildings, and ponder on how they starkly contrast the colorful clean beauty of Seattle, I start to wonder: “How could anybody miss this?” How could I possibly miss being in this tangled mess of corruption chaos and crime. New York City, the place that some people call the greatest city in the world. The place where people come together to be free, where people come to expand their horizons. The place where people come to ferment with the dregs and feast on their regurgitations. How could I possibly miss this? And yet…

Music: OrtoPilot, “Shiver (dance mix)”

I’ve just gotten back from a trip to Houston. I really had a good time. We went to Houston for the weekend because a friend was getting married. And as weddings go, since he was busy with the last minute details, I didn’t get a chance to hang out with him much. So, I did the next best thing, I hung out with some of my other friends who came for the wedding and even some that didn’t. We had a great time. I hadn’t seen Matt and Talmon since moving from PA, and it was great to hang with them again. It was even better because now they are best buddies since I moved from NY. So, what does it mean that my friends start liking each other after I move away? (I try not to think about it.)

In the process I discovered that Houston is almost a brand new city. For some time I have been hesitant about moving back to Houston because it would feel too much like moving back home. You know that feeling, been there done that. I never wanted to move back to what would feel like the same old dead end. Don’t get me wrong, I really like Houston. I would recommend it to anyone looking for a good place to live. I guess I’m sort of like the small-town boy who leaves home to see the “Big Beautiful World” out there and is not sure he’ll ever fit into that small-town life again.

However, I was somewhat surprised to find that Houston is more than I remembered it to be. For instance, we went out to a small mostly outdoor cafe for desert and drinks and I really enjoyed it. It reminded me of hanging out at cool little places like that in Manhattan or out in Queens. The strange thing is that the cafe or at least something like it may have been there before I moved away from my small-town Houston life. So, this of course begs the question: Did Houston really grow and change or was it I? Maybe a little of both. In addition to all the new neighborhoods I saw popping up around town, I also saw quite a few new buildings down town.

Quote: “See that nice tall domed building over there, Never seen it before in my life.”

And what they did to Main Street is amazing. I remember Main being a congested street with plumes of black smoke pouring out of the myriad city busses that reside there. But now there are slick new trains that run up and down the beautifully cobble stoned expanse that is now Main Street. All I could say is Wow!

I could almost see myself living in a cool little condo near down town riding my scooter to and from work on beautiful warm days. But then there is that fear again. What if I got there and the newness lasted for all of one month, and I start feeling like I’m suited for something… more… Whatever that more would be. How could I possibly go about extracting myself from the boredom of a hum drum life? I mean, do I remain safely away from my small-town and keep exploring and discovering life out in the “Big Beautiful World” always coming back to visit with friends that I miss? Or, do I settle down back home with the people I have come to know and love, yet long for the adventure and discovery that was part of a life gone by. There in lies the question:

To be [home] or not to be…

Music: Brand New, “I Will Play My Game Beneath The Spin Light”

So we’re almost finished packing up the apartment getting ready to leave tomorrow. I’m not looking forward to the long drive. It’s funny, I’ve always looked forward, with eager anticipation, to moving to a new area, often with less “emotional detachment difficulties” than the friends and family I left behind. I’ve always had the luxury of being able to look forward to the next big new thing I was moving to, weather it was a new job or new surroundings. I’ve always had the next new thing securely in hand. This time, however, will be the first time I’ll be moving to a cold start, that is without having a job in hand or having secured a place to stay. Both of which I’ll be working vigorously to secure before too long.

I wonder if this is how the old pioneers felt when leaving in their wagon trains to settle the untamed west. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not worried, I’m just concerned =) Moving to the west coast has been a goal of mine for the past six or seven years. Ever since the first time I went to California I’ve been in love with the west coast. That love affair was rekindled after my first trip to Seattle and its still simmers in the back of my mind like the long awaited unrealized desires of childhood fantasies. Yet, at the same time I’m starting to suffer from those same “emotional detachment difficulties” that my friends and families have suffered so oft as I satisfied my wanderlust. Could it be that I’m beginning to (ugh!) “settle down” in my old age?

Music: Underworld, “Two Months Off”