Quirkee.com

My apologies.

And my excuse.

To Quirkee readers.

Who I'm sure have been frothing mad at the absence of this column for a heartwrenching three weeks.

Whose lives I have disrupted irreparably (I imagine a good number had to call in sick from work, maybe others took paid time-off to try and seek me out, see if anything was wrong), whose Thursdays I've demolished (of course you wait anxiously for the website to update, your newsletter to arrive, and to navigate your pointer fervently to my byline).

It starts like this. A Taoist proverb advises, "We cannot see our reflection in running water. It is only in still water that we can see."

I missed that memo.

You see, I'm writing from California.

It's my first time here. The weather is lovely. San Francisco is just as bustling and vibrant as all the rumors suggest.

I'm not vacationing. Not sight-seeing. Not even swooping in for a quick visit because I'm considering something drastic like, oh, relocating.

I live here.

In other words, I get a D in Taoism. (It should probably be an F, but I'm assuming that Taoist monks would be benevolent before dropping the big F-bomb).

If we cannot see our reflection in running water, it might be a good thing: My reflection right now would turn up somebody nerve-frayed, bewildered, sunburnt. (That California sun is sneaky. Hides behind clouds. Not like our Texas scorcher, where you KNOW you better run for the nearest Walgreens and snatch up all their SPF 50.) I'm in running water again, surfing the rapids, watching the clear pool of Austin, TX slip further and further away.

To go into all of my reasons would be tiresome and, let's be honest, self-serving. Last thing I need to subject my unfortunate readers to (by "my readers" I mean, of course, my mom, my brother, maybe my aunt) is my desperate attempt at validating a scatterbrained and financially irresponsible move. I'll just say this: My clear pool in Austin started feeling... stagnant. I felt like if I really took a chance, really overhauled my existence, overcame my inertia, and started in a fresh, uncomfortable place, I could clarify things and prove to the universe that I'm not lazy about my quest for self-knowledge.

And, I'm impulsive. I like proving that things that seem hard aren't that hard. Finally and most importantly, I am a firm believer in "eh - it'll work out."

Of course, this attitude stems from more than just hearsay. I'd moved to Austin from New England under even more extreme circumstances. A wide-eyed college grad with no acquaintance in Texas, never mind in Austin, I got obsessed with the idea of living in the Live Music Capital of the World. Where I'd never been. And so I packed up my powder blue 1989 Cadillac El Dorado and I drove on down. La-di-da, and eh - it worked out great. That was two and a half years ago.

And now, a five day veteran of Pacific Coast Time, I sit here in San Francisco and instead of humming any sort of ditty, I am wondering, in the bluntest of terminology: WTF?

I underestimated what a mindfuck this would be.

I thought this move would be easier. I actually have friends in San Francisco - such luxury! But, as I find myself regularly doubled over with nostalgic kicks in the crotch (I paint quite the picture, don't I?), telling more and more strangers about how great Austin is ("sure, you've got the Golden Gate bridge, but what about Special Shady Thangs, what about those?"), the following has occurred to me:

Maybe this was just arrogant. Maybe I'm just pushing my luck, trying this thing twice.

Well, we shall see.

Back to my point. My point is, I'm sorry I've been MIA for the past three weeks. I was sort of busy turning my life upside down and inside out. And burning rubber across the southwest. (More to come about that.) Apologies all around from the west coast. The Governator sends his deepest regards and asks for your understanding, endorsement, and sheer awe.

As for my new hometown of San Fran, California... If I can't find a clear pool to see my reflection in here, maybe I'll come across a small puddle. (Maybe the Pacific?)

Or just buy myself a really, really big mug of beer to peer into.

That'll do just fine.

---

Tag this article:

Average user rating

   (0 vote)