Ferocity Mill

My main reason for not writing here in oh, so many moons is that I had no idea how to get caught up. How could I describe, in enough detail to do them justice, the chain of events which led from me living in Portland (Oregon) to me living in Oakland (California)? How could I even begin to talk about the people I’ve met (dozens!), places I’ve been (all over the entire goddamn country!), money I’ve squandered (whimper), and the fact that I somehow have managed to stumble into a surprisingly healthy relationship with someone who can SPELL?

The answer is, I can’t. Not at this point, anyway – the task is entirely too daunting for me. However, I’m sure I’ll be filling in some blanks here and there over the next several days/weeks/months (yes, this means that I will actually be updating this during that time), so don’t worry your pretty little head about it. If you are very, very interested, enough to do some detective work on your own, feel free to visit my Flickr site, where I have documented the last several months of my life with a thoroughness bordering on obsessive-compulsion.

So! There’s the disclaimer. If any of you are still reading, I embrace you back into my weird little fold, and hope you’ll hang out for a while. I certainly intend to do so.

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I’m sitting at the kitchen table in the apartment where I now quasi-live. I can’t fully move in until the 15th, so my home is currently the living room on a fold-out bed which I can solidly say is far more comfortable than anything the Army ever provided me.

The apartment, as I mentioned before, is in Oakland, California (all together, now: “Try not to get shot!”), where I’ve landed after six or seven months of floating in the breeze like so many helium balloons. It’s a friendly place which houses three friendly people (in addition to me) who love my friendly dog and are just generally friendly. And four times is enough for one adjective. Suffice it to say, I am content here.

The neighborhood is fairly hilly, which means that, as one who enjoys walking from place to place, that I will have calf muscles the size of grapefruits shortly. It’s relatively suburbish, unlike the location I fled in Portland.

Speaking of Portland, here is a quick explanation for the fleeing: the devil lived in my house. Okay, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration, but it’s hard not to think in extremes when you live with a woman who is severely manic-depressive and medicated in all the wrong ways. Action had to be taken. Other than that, I loved Portland. It is a city to be chill in. But hey, things change, right? Right! On with the show.

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Not to leave you all hanging, but I have some grocery shopping to do (for the first time in MONTHS. What shall I buy? Oh, I don’t know, maybe something that needs to be refrigerated!) and some showering, and some general life-planning. Wish me luck! And, as always, thanks for sticking around. I heart you.