Roots

My lord but I'm bad at updating this thing lately. I guess I can't tell whether I want to write somberly or full of vim and vigor. None of my personalities can make up their minds.

Anyway, I'm in California right now, which leans in the vim direction. I brought my camera with me and I've been snapping away. I've been sniffing away like a bloodhound because the outdoors smells like the beach, eucalyptus or sage. All of the smells I grew up with and miss horribly.

I will never stop being a Californian and, really, I won't rest or put down roots until I can make my way back. I've spent most of my life trying to deny what should be obvious and try to force my way into someplace I shouldn't have been in the first place.

The good side of this is that because I've lived in different places long enough to be considered a resident, I've intimately discovered areas that I would have missed had I just stuck in out in California. And I don't think my wandering soul would have settled, either.

But there's nothing like not appreciating something until it's been taken away and you want it back so bad you could burst. I can't help but look at the cliffs in the canyons with longing and regret that I didn't come to see them more when I lived here. I never saw Joshua Tree or Yosemite. I've missed miles of hiking and cycling and open water swimming, despite the problem of seaweed as big as your head that you tend to bump into if you're not careful.

Maybe I'm just getting older but I've been away too long and I think it's time to come home.