The First Leg

...of a three legged dog.

I just cracked a bottle of Anchor Steam and I'm sitting down in the chilly kitchen of my friends' San Francisco apartment, on the first leg of my adventure from my charming and harmless hometown of Ukiah to the depths of the South and the city of New Orleans.

Yes, I'm moving there for (fate permitting) the next six months.

No, I've never been there before.

Why? Food, music, cheap rent, experience.

Isn't it dangerous? Hell, thats the price you pay for culture.

I had just set my roots back down into my childhood home on Greenfield, and this last Saturday I wrenched them out of the ground, saying salty goodbyes to my family with tears streaming uncontrollably. I drank my last week away with all my greatest friends, fell in love one last time, and hit the road. Sobbing, of course. The great thing about crying is the release, and I am left feeling longing but not pain.

So far, nothing has not gone according to plan. Nothing is flowing smoothly. I figure it's me, as much as it's the world around me. I realized what I was craving: I wanted everyone to stop what they were doing and prioritize my grand arrival. Um. With less than a day's notice. I realized as well that I was being rediculous, and did my best to sit down, shut up and enjoy the ride.

I don't expect many people to actually read this. It's more of a place for me to store my thoughts, as much as a forum to share them with you. i will say I have sincerely appreciated all the support, advice, and warnings from everyone I've talked to. I promise to keep my head on straight. I promise to be smart, aware, and above all SAFE. I have learned a lot about myself in the last few years, and I'm striving to remain open to adventure while being appropriately cautious. Don't worry about me. For your sake. I'm a part-time daredevil and I'm coming home alive.

Love,

J