The blog about my cross-country trip

Whether you know it or not, on the 16th of August, at approximately 6 am PST, I started to drive across the country. Some people might find that fascinating, exciting, whatever. I didn’t then, and I don’t now. Besides, I’ve done it before. I’ve gone from Massachusetts, my favorite state of the union, to California. So, if anything, the California trip to Florida should be easier. Right?

Wrong. There’s one minor difference between when I went from Mass to Cali from when I just went from Cali to Florida: I’m broken now. Specifically, my mind and my nerves are broken. What does this have to do with a drive across the country? I have this unnatural fear of being a passenger in a car, or any other form of transportation. I even sometimes have issues when I’m the driver and I have passengers. It sucks, because there is nothing I enjoy more than driving friends around. Gives you time to just chat, you know? Spend some quality time with them.

So, the moment I became conscious that Wednesday morning, I knew I was going to have issues. My heart was racing a mile a minute, nonstop pounding in my chest, and in my ears. I head was spinning, not being able to focus on calming myself down. my palms were sweating, my stomach had those butterflies from hell flapping around nonstop. I figured, what the hell, I can manage this. Nope. So, I popped a pill, and about 10 minutes later, BAM! I was calm enough to hop in the car. Of course, it took some other measures to “feel” better that quick. Strangely, and somewhat ironically, the randomly grabbing of a stuffed snake given to me a couple of years back gave me a sense of calm. And that stuffed snake was in my pocket for the remainder of the road trip. I’m semi-superstitious like that.

If you’ve never driven across the country, it’s pretty boring. Of course, it depends on why you’re driving across the country, how you’re driving across the country, who you’re driving with, and where you’re going. Driving 15 hours a day to Florida for school really isn’t the most pleasant of road trip options. Trust me on this, it’s an exhausting trip, and well beyond hot, given the states we crossed and the time of year. I wouldn’t suggest it to anyone.

Stopping twice in Texas (the second time to stay with my aunt and one of my cousins for a night) and once just north of Gainesville, it was actually over pretty quickly. Again, the drugs I had made it possible for me to survive the trip in a semi-decent shape. I also had some help with the iPod and the laptop playing movies (they make lovely power adapters for things like laptops that hook up to your car’s electrical system via the cigarette lighter plug thingy). Actually, anyone driving across the country needs something to survive the trip, otherwise you go crazy from boredom.

Of course, the moment we get into Florida, what do we run into? A freaking thunderstorm, that’s what. Strangely enough, it was comforting. It was that old familiar sight (and sound…and even smell coming through the air vents) that made me realize I was pretty damned happy to be back in Florida. The drive down 75 was full of nothing…which is what I like in a highway/freeway/interstate. I don’t like to see buildings and signs piled up on-top of one another, I like seeing green along the sides of the road. And that’s what we saw, and that too was comforting.

After a short stop just north of Gainesville for the night on Friday, we were at UF Saturday morning. I had to smile seeing all the parents and kiddies running around trying to move all their stuff in. Kind of reminded me of my earlier college years and the fact that I was only going to be doing that once more (which I’ve just recently done). It’s funny watching the parents, they seem to make a bigger deal out of it than the kids, which is understandable, especially if it’s the first time for them and the kid. You know how parents get when it comes to children leaving the nest.

So, yeah, about 3 wonderful freaking days of being in Gainesville. It was hot and the car’s a/c could not handle the heat. Of course, the mom also wanted to walk around her old college town all 3 days, which was just grand. Nothing like touring a town you don’t want to be in, nor do you want to see anymore of than you have to. All I can say about UF, though, is that the campus cops are freaking Nazis. You’d think they had nothing better to do than pull kids over on their bicycles for god knows what. I’ve only seen one person pulled over on their bike before in my life, and that count tripled in a one hour period. You can’t see it, but I’m shaking my head at the UF campus police.

Ever had that feeling that a period of time felt like it took forever to go by at the time, but when you look back on it, it seemed to go by quickly? That’s how that little stop in Gainesville felt. Onward to Tampa!

Well, actually, we stopped in New Port Richey before going into Tampa. Actually, we weren’t supposed to go into Tamp that Tuesday, since the plan was to move me in on Wednesday. But, I decided it was worth the $10 to move in a day early…seeing as I was extremely, and unusually, nervous about it. So, that’s what we did. We somehow managed to fit everything into an Explorer that took up every nook and cranny of an Expedition (how that happened, I have no clue….the universe must have had some kind of brain fart) and dumped it all in my room at USF. Basically, that was it. Moved in 100% on Thursday, and I’ve been here ever since.

Of course, now that the Explorer is in my name, it seems everything is falling apart. It always seems to go that way, doesn’t it?

It’s time to settle down

I’m tired. For the past few days, even the past few weeks, I get this overwhelming feeling of being worn out. I’m so sick of this, it depresses me. Not, it’s not school, it’s not life, it’s not the world, it’s not people, it’s not flaky friends or anything else like that. I’m tired of constantly being in motion. Not tired of being physically active, but tired not being able to stay in one place year-round, year-after-year.

I have a manager where I’m currently employed (until I leave this Wednesday to head back to school) who, throughout the summer, has been saying he wishes he could be like me in that he “envies” (for lack of a better word) the fact that I get to go to all this different places and meet different people. Of course, he mentions this every time we talk about me heading back to school, since we then end up talking about the fact that I know people and have friends all over this country that I’ve actually met in person! Imagine that, not just faceless cyberspace names!

To tell you the truth, I’d give up this “life” of bouncing around the country every few months or so. I’m here, packing, thinking, looking around, and I realize I’m tired of flying and driving back and forth across this country. I’m tired of that instability in my life. Some may not see it that way, but I do. What makes it worse is that neither place is what I consider my true home. I didn’t grow up in Florida. I didn’t grow up in California. I suppose if I had grown up in California, if I had been friends with the very few people I’m friends with out here, if I had established roots and memories outside the past 4 years or so, then I probably wouldn’t be feeling this way.

Hell, what would have happened if I had transferred from USF all those years ago to some college in SoCal? Would certain aspects of my life have worked out better than they have up to this point? Who knows

Even though I’m somewhat of a loner, a bit of a wanderer (location-wise and even personal relationship-wise), I wish I could settle down in one spot. I wish I could have that consistency in my life, to stick with the people who’ve made an impact on my life, and who’s lives I’ve made an impact on. That may sound conceited or whatever, but it’s the truth. You know you’ve made a positive impact on someone when you can be in a city for only a few months out of the year, and have those people treat you like a friend whenever you’ve comeback, tell you that they like you and you’re a good person, miss you when you’re gone, and still pick right back up when you get back. It feels good to have people like that in your life, and it would make me feel even better if the people I care about or just have a casual friendship with could be in my life on a regular basis.

I just got a call from an old friend, Ariel, I met back in 8th grade (I believe…it might have been 7th), who I haven’t really talked with a lot lately. You know, life gets in the way, they’ve got themselves a degree and a real job, and me having a ton of shit in my life recently I’ve needed to try and deal with. It makes me sit back and think about what life would be like if I had gone to school at UMass (or some other New England college) and hadn’t moved out to Cali with the parents. Would my life have been better? Would have I been happier? Would have I met some of the good, and the bad, people I’ve met because of my travels? Would have I had that nervous breakdown which ended up being the catalyst to my recent downfall?

All I can say is, no matter what, despite what I’ve been saying, I’m glad I’ve had the opportunity to meet the people I’ve met in Florida, and I’m happy to have met and made the true close friend that I had made out here in California. Despite all the fuck ups of late, despite all the recent drama in my life with some people, despite being boned over by a person or two, I can look back at it all and smile despite the uncertainty that lays ahead.

I look around, and I’m starting to see some newer and older friends who are starting to settle down. Take Josh, for example. The dude who lived across the hall from me my first year of college (my first of many years of college). He’s getting married to this great girl (assuming they haven’t gotten married just yet). That’s the place I thought I would be in at this point. Maybe not getting married just yet, but be well on my way to that point. I’ve never been one to bounce around from one girl to another, I wouldn’t be able to stand. And I can’t stand bouncing between adopted homes anymore.

I just need to settle down somewhere. And that’s the thing, I have no idea where that’s going to be, and that time is fast approaching. There is just too much uncertainty surrounding this whole thing, and it’s killing me. It’s driving me nuts.

The evils of Myspace, and the stupid people who use it

There are a lot of things out there that can be quite dangerous if you’re not careful. A lot of bad situations you can get yourself into if you don’t make the right decisions. You can screw a lot of things up if you don’t take that extra fraction of a second to think things through, or if time permits, an extra week. That last bit is one of those instances where you should do as I say, not as I do. I wouldn’t take the time to think something through if I was given control of time itself.

Anyway, that’s part of the problem with something like Myspace, where you have millions of users and even more user accounts who can pretend to be whomever or whatever they want. For instance, I could pretend to be a 5 foot 3 inch, 18 year old blonde virgin (yeah, right, like there’s such a thing these days) named Leah from Miami….and claim to have no tan lines. As long as I had pictures of some random 18ish year old short blonde, who’s gonna know? Online, that is. Ever hear people joke about that chick their friend was talking to online really was a 40 year old fat guy named Bob? Yeah, it’s pretty much like that.

Unfortunately, there are much more than a few people in this world who have no problems with using a site like Myspace to pretend to be Mr. Nice Guy Who’s Also Mr. Right and land some chicks. Either they do it for one night stands, or they do it to pick their next murder victim, and everything in-between. Sometimes it’s innocent, and these people really are good people, but how are you ever going to know? Until you find out the hard way? Probably. Of course, that’s the problem with the internet in general, but an online social site such as Myspace makes this sort of game a lot easier. Sadly, there are even more gullible people out there who fall for the lines and false personalities than there are wackos and sex offenders. So, there is plenty of prey for the predator.

Take this story from a couple of months ago: young girl meets guy online, hit it off, girl goes to meet guy, and guy sexually assaulted her. Of course, it’s Myspace’s fault for her parents not closely monitoring her online activities and for not teaching her about the dangers, so what does the family do? Sue Myspace, of course! As much as I detest Myspace, I don’t see how it’s their fault that this 14 year old girl fell for the bullshit of the 19 year old guy and was sexually assaulted. And, I don’t see how it’s their fault that they can’t screen out sexual predators and keep dumb, naive teenage girls from acting slutty to get guys to hit on them…or for other reasons I’d rather not go into right now.

The technology just isn’t available to make sure that people are saying who they are (especially how old they are) and to keep sexual predators from making their marks using a site like Myspace. Sure, there could be ways to keep someone who is already a convicted offender from registering at these sites, but what about the aspiring offender who has never been caught or is looking to pop his (or her, there are some hers out there) cherry in that whole horrible business?

You know what the best way to keep kids from getting caught in the traps of a sexual predator is? Get the parents involved. The buck stops there, in my opinion. Of course, even with the best of efforts by the parent, not every case such as the one previously mentioned can be avoided. But, it can be limited. Between school and the parents, make sure the kiddies are taught about the dangers. And I don’t mean something like those horribly vague sex-ed classes that many schools try and pass off as being informative because they can’t come up with some kind of effective class due to “moral” outrage by some parents who are still living in the early 1900’s. I mean something that really hammers home the point. What? I don’t know, I’m no parent and I’m no expert, but I do know from experience what can keep a kid out of trouble.

These days, the parents spend too much time blaming everyone but themselves. “McDonald’s made my kid fat, it’s all their fault” or “Marilyn Manson and Grand Theft Auto are to blame for kids lashing out in violent ways.” Bullshit, make the parents responsible for what their kids know and what they don’t know. If your little girls gets knocked up when she’s 16 because you objected to the sex-ed class that would have told her a little more about the birds and the bees because of some retarded religious belief, it’s your fault. If your kid doesn’t know not to get car rides from strangers because you never told them strangers can be bad, it’s your fault, not Henry Ford’s for starting a car company that ended up making vans with no back windows. Suck it up and take responsibility for your own children, don’t lay the blame on everyone else. If your kid is street stupid, your the only ones to blame.

What is wrong with people?

Seriously, this seems to be a recurring theme in my life. Mainly, my life in California. And, quite frankly, I’m getting tired of complaining and bitching and moaning about it. But, that’s how I deal with things. Why? Because the other ways that would be more effective would land me in prison, that’s why. That and I don’t think I can get cable if I move into the middle of the mountains and live in a cave or some kind of hut.

It’s just completely mind boggling when I try and rationalize what people do in this world, especially in this part of California. Most of my griping is over petty shit that really has no bearing on the outcome of my life, but still. It’s the principle of the thing, you know what I mean? How can parents be such fuck ups that their offspring haven’t been able to figure out right from wrong by the age of 17, 18, and beyond? Yeah, we all do stupid shit at times, but it’s the fact that these ass hats keep doing the same stupid shit over and over and over again. I have to write half-threatening notes to keep my damned snackage safe at work!

And that’s the icing on the cake, the whole “missing snackage” thing. It’s just been so much so often lately that this latest incident was the proverbial straw-on-the-camel’s-back (don’t ask me to explain that one…or I’ll just cry). It’s funny that what set me off was a missing muffin that I happened to be craving early in the morning. This last muffin from a box of Otis Spunkmeyer muffins happened to be leftover from last week, and it was to be my breakfast. But, no, some nitwit (I’m trying to keep the colorful language out of this rant) had to steal my damned muffin. I was already semi-cranky because the same nitwits are morons and couldn’t wipe their own asses if their lives depended on it, so I was stuck cleaning up after these people early in the morning. And I was hungry, craving that delicious pastry to give me some energy so I could possibly last until it was time to go home. But, instead, I was left to buying Go-Tarts (I think that’s what they’re called), not giving nowhere near the kind of satisfaction the muffins had been giving me.

Alas, as it is usually the case at work, someone stole my damned food. As I said, that was the last straw after months of SoCal bullshit. What drives someone to take other people’s food without leaving so much as a note saying “Sorry, took your last muffin. I’ll pay ya back. ~ Bob” is well beyond me. At least a note would keep me calm. If you can’t even own up to taking someones muffin, you’re a sad excuse for a human being, and should be sent to Siberia. Selfish morons only think about themselves out on this coast. Yeah, I’m still pissed. Think it’s childish? How about I walk into your house and brew your last bit of coffee and drink it all and not say a word to you when you’re craving that coffee and need it to get you through the morning? Yeah, we’ll see who’s crazy then.

Moral of the rant: buy your own damned food. If you have no money and truly feel the need, grow a pair and inform the person you’re stealing from who you are.