|I don't miss this asshole.|
I miss California. I always miss California, even when I am deep inside of her.
It's true. When I lived in Monterey, I would spend an inordinate amount of time thinking and writing about LA. It's the place the made me. It's one of those rare cities that people visit and say over and over again, oh my god, I saw (fill in location) in a movie! It's the one California city everyone knows (sorry San Francisco).
|Viva los doyers!|
True story: I was part of a convoy heading into Bosnia. We stopped in the middle of nowhere in some Eastern European town I can't remember the name of. Two boys came out of their house and started talking to me and my buddy. As soon as I said I was from California they let out an almost unison, LA? Once I said yes, my buddy ceased to matter to them. No one has ever asked if I am from Fresno, or San Diego, or Frisco. Not when I am on the road in this country or any other country.
When I am not in Monterey, I'm pretty much just wanting to get back there. If LA made me, Monterey put me together and smoothed out the rough edges. Monterey is home.
|That bridge has been on your television more than all the CSIs combined.|
It's really all of California that I miss. I am a Californian first, an American second. Today is the last day I can say, a year ago at this time I was in California.
On the upside, today is also the last day I have to say, a year ago I was in California City. Seriously, that place made Fresno look like Bel Air. It was fucking awful.
Anyway, a year ago today I woke up, loaded a fluffy dog and The Gorgeous Blonde into the car, and said goodbye to California. I miss it. Fortunately, I will go from my laptop to having my toes in white powder sand as I stare at emerald green water in the time it takes you to read this entire post to help with the sadness.