Mac Davis, is that you??

Seven years ago I moved to Austin.  I wanted the freedom; I felt confined and 'known' in Lubbock.  I wanted anonymity.  I'll spare you the details of the two years I lived there; suffice to say that I moved back to Lubbock with less money, more concert ticket stubs, worse credit, and a longer legal record. 

I came back to school at Tech and vowed that I would move back to Austin the day after my graduation.  I graduated in '09, and I still call Lubbock home.  Many residents of the '806' refer to it as 'The Black Hole', meaning that once you spend a little time here, you get sucked in and can't leave.  Not necessarily because you love it, but rather because you despise it just enough to drive you to drink.  Then, everything seems great again.  Your friends feel the same way so your misery has company.  Inevitably, you will complain about everything from the landscape to the lack of (good) restaurants, homes for young singles, dating opportunities, and (exciting) jobs.  It's only after you leave this place that you realize why you stayed. 

My cousin and I took a bus downtown in Austin on New Years Eve, being the responsible drivers that we are.  This seemed a great idea until the bus filled up and a man that seemed to be coming down from a near-overdose experience decided that he enjoyed my personal space better than his own.  I am not a friendly person in these moments.  My friends were coming from the opposite side of town and texting me about a fight breaking out in the back of their bus.  I imagine bullets haphazardly zigzagging throughout the bus, ricocheting off the piercings of the passengers. All I can think is 'duck'.

And I understand - NYE, downtown - of course it will be crazy.  The point is that I don't want this craziness in my backyard.  I want it 6 driving hours away.  Ok, 3 hours would be better, especially when driving home the day after a night out.  Regardless, I want to be able to leave it and step into my front door -which is metaphorical for 'merge onto Loop 289' - and let a heavy sigh knowing that all I have to worry about now is feeding my little dog. 

I feel safe here.  I don't worry about being mugged when I walk the sidewalk to CVS.  I am not overly concerned to walk the streets at night so long as I steer clear of East Lubbock.  I also enjoy being able to get ANYWHERE in 20 minutes.  And really, that’s pushing it as far as my patience in a car is concerned. 

I think for me, living here only pushes me further to get out of town.  To travel.  I can only eat at the same restaurants so many times before I become a miserable human being.  I go through it here in cycles.  And yet, I'm comfortable here.  That's what 'home' is supposed to be.  It is the shelter from the outside world.  There are 'cycles' in every home.  You get sick of the same thing - the same nagging wife, the same whining kids and ....well, I can only imagine what I would get sick of concerning a husband.  ;)....but you love them.  You choose them.  You know them. 

Now, I am home.  Back to the routine, and back to feeding my piggy bank that currently is looking a bit more like a Greyhound.  Since October I have taken a trip to Canada, Washington, DFW, ATX, and a small town in central Texas twice.  Living here affords me that.  It affords me a comfortable 'groove' to get into, while providing financial ability and a starving soul that prompts me to leave.  If I had everything I could imagine in front of me, I'd be less eager to explore. 

The only problem is that this time next week I will disagree with the vast majority of this post and want to move out of the black hole.  And maybe I will.  Oohh, cycles....

Christmas in the Closet (spatially speaking)

I live in a 256 square foot efficiency. 

I want you to understand the space we're (my dog and I) dealing with.  I have a twin bed, dog crate, tv stand, and one small chair.  A few odds and ends, kitchen (read: stovetop and a sink with the dimensions of a text book - but a bit deeper), closet and bathroom (shower only). 

My logic was to save money.  The first night I stayed there I sat in the middle of the floor and thought 'my God, what have I done', while my dog, Cash, looked at me and asked the same thing.  His thought had curse words though; he was pissed that mom would be too depressed for the next nine months to throw the frisbee.  This kid is a frisbee junkie.  Goes nuts.  Will jump into a dumpster with no concern if he sees the frisbee glide in first.  Seriously, he was pissed. 

But, it hasn't been that bad.  Sure, there have been moments where the vodka bottle got a little too low a little too quickly, but all in all, it is adequate.  Saying that, I CAN NOT WAIT TO GET THE HELL OUT OF THERE.   (caps with a period equal a controlled scream.  kinda like someone in a mental institute that is expressing themself but doesnt want to get drugged - they keep it 'controlled'.)

I try to periodically breathe new life into the place.  Rearrange the furniture (a favorite past time since childhood), but with such limited space comes limited variations.  Decorate for Christmas: I bought a Charlie Brown Christmas Tree - as in the box says 'Charlie Brown Christmas Tree' - it 'fits' the place.  Metaphorically, and dimensionally.

I was also going to get little stockings for Cash and myself (Katy), but you see what I'm dealing with:

Sometimes the universe and I are not quite on the same page.  Though, this just solidifies my approach to life of not planning too much....of just rolling with the flow.  Or in cases where there is a lack thereof, climbing the cliffs, hacking through with a thick ice pick. 

So, this Christmas, Cash and I are Charlie and Snoopy.  But we are happy enough with that.  Sometimes I feel more like Scrooge and he is Tiny Tim....thank goodness for his sweet little self.