It's amazing that I ever get anything written at all.

Really, it is.

I came upstairs about an hour and a half ago to start reading/writing. I've now been reading exclusiely for the entire time.

It's not all my fault, of course. Many of my regulars had links in thier posts, thus prolonging my procrastinaion to write.

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(and now an aside)

I finally decided to start my Punk band.

I'm going to call it Painfully Obvious, and we're going to rock the planet from here to hell and back again.

Now, all I need are some guys that can play music, and have thier own equipment, a singer, and a roadie crew.

Any takers? I'm going to write the songs, but you all will have to write the music.

Heh. In all seriousness tho, I thought that would be a great name for a Punk band, and strangely was thinking about it just this morning. Now, as to why I broke into your regularly scheduled post; I just saw an anti-drug commercial. The website?

You won't believe it.

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But, I digress.

Kbear asked a question, and I intend to answer it.

This even goes to finish answering Murphy's question about Carson City.

Home.

Home is where you hang your hat.

Home is where, when you go there, they have to take you in.

Home is where the heart is.

4.5 billion people, 4.8 billion answers.

I was born in the Northern California Bay Area, and lived there until I was 11. My family moved up here to get away from the insanity of California. Most of my family, however, remained in CA. While living here, I always considered that home. Later in life, microseconds after my 18th bday to be precise, I moved to Florida.

I managed a year out there. As Zep says, good times, bad times. I did *blush* lose my virginity there (i know, late bloomer). When the shit hit the fan, I flew out to CA, that was home. That only lasted about 6 months. I moved back with my dad (parent's divorced my Freshman year), and that meant Nevada. I stayed here for a while, but had aspirations of going back to school, and as it's obscenely expensive to go to school in Nevada, and just as obsecenely cheap in CA...well, you do the math. I was in NV just long enough to get moving money. California here I come.

I got there, got a job, and started making plans for school. Heh. School got pushed off a bit. Then I met K. She was going with a friend of mine. Yeah, I know. Pretty low. But she came after me. Long story short, we were made for each other, or so we told ourselves. We made a decision. It involved parenthood, and since I, at the tender age of 22, had amassed all the answers, we decided it was the time.

Again, there was a move in my future. We moved to central CA, near San Luis Obispo, to be near her family. Her home. I lived there for a while. I even got my act together enough to get my degree. Nothing special, just my A.A., but I got out of a 5 semester school in 6 semesters, took no summer classes, and graduated as part of Alpha Gamma Sigma Nat'nl Honor Society. Even took some classes I wanted. Ask me about my golf class and ballistic trajectory.

Right about that time, several things happened. K had been hemming and hawing about our relationship for a long time. I'd asked her to marry me, of course, as we were having a child together. And she'd said yes. And no. And yes again. You get the picture. Anyhow, and I can still remember the day...the way I felt.

She tells me that Stan, a guy I know she's been seeing a bit of, has asked her to marry him. I'm still there. I can see the campus out the huge plate glass windows of the cafeteria. I can still feel the drop in my stomach, still hear her words. She goes on to tell me that she's said yes. I got a ride home..well downtown anyhow...and just wandered. There were other factors...No more school....No more Pell Grants for community college...I hated my job at 7ELEVEn...

So, I decided to move home. This time, it meant Norcal again. I moved up there to get into a real school. USF was my target. I hardly need to tell you that things seldom go as planned. I got 'home', eventually found a job -day job tho, and tougher for school- and then I met J. Heh. You'll get a kick out of this. She was going with a friend of mine. The odd bit? Yeah, same friend. Even longer story, even shorter, she gets sick, goes to the doctor, and they put her on anti-biotics. They neglect, however, to tell her about their negative interaction with BCP's.

Again, you do the math.


Due to circumstances beyond my control, I was forced to move in with J. Now, don't get me wrong, I loved her. She loved me. Neither of us, however wanted to live together. We lived together a year, the 5 of us in a 2 bedroom apartment. Me, J, her two boys (from her marriage), and our daughter, S. A year. Then she moved home, a town about 13 miles away, but truly home, to her parent's house. Me? Yeah, same same. Lived with my mom and s/d. Fiastrous. Moved into my dad's studio apt while I tried to make cash to get back to CA.

Made it back to CA. Moved in with my sis. Pretty cool place/people. Sunday morning breakfast became almost a tradition. Then, all of a sudden, my sis wants to move in with our aunt. Many things happened, some worth mentioning, some not. It was at that point that I had my epiphany.

I actually knew where I wanted to be. I thought, and thought, and then it just came to me.

I called my Dad in Carson City, and asked him if I could move home. He said yes, and I never looked back.

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So that, dear Kbear, in a nutshell, is home for me.

Buenos con Queso,

T.

P.S. for the record, r stopped by for dinner (beer battered catfish and au gratin potato'e's). t.