It was one of the coldest, rainiest, windiest nights ever in the City of San Francisco. And we chose to spend it not in our warm, comfortable, and newly-purchased bed, but on the cold steps of City Hall. It was a test to see exactly how important social contract philosophy was to us. Would that everyone thought of it that way. For the chance to marry David, I would have stayed awake on those cold steps through ten rainy nights…

The contract was nullified by the courts, and alternative steps have since been taken to legally ensure the public recognition of my chosen family. Whilst I sometimes object to the concept of “marriage” in and of itself due to its weighted historical implications (religious, moral, legal, etc.), so long as it is the forbidden zone of contract law in this refreshingly contract-ruled country, I will demand its extension to my relationship.

My philosophical outlook on life can generally be characterized by several identifiable moments where it “rebirthed”. Each time it was not necessarily a “change” in philosophy but a change in perspective and a new lease on philosophical principles that were failing to entirely work for me. At only 3.5 years old, my online presence has failed to really reflect much of them. But there has been a small change in perspective recently, whether or not it’s been easily discernable in my composition.

What the process has made me think about most is that, although I have maintained the same general philosophical principles throughout my life, certain specifics have changed, and thus the fact that much of my ideas are documented and expressed here in my web sites demonstrates these changes. In the past, these small changes have encouraged me to let go of my past philosophical expressions entirely - sort of wishing to start my ranting over from my new perspective, and with a clean slate.

But now I realize that my past is a very important part of my life. The fact that I change over time is what makes me human and maintaining an intimate link with those changes requires documenting them. Erasing them is counterproductive if I wish to grow by obtaining new perspective on my ideals, and fails to lend me the vast amount of assistance my past offers for free.

I don’t think I have really changed, on a basic psychological level. Ultimately, what changes for me from time to time is my intellectual ammunition. I find newer and better ways to express what I feel and what I think and how I reason. Usually these instances of change are preceded by exposure to a specific bit of philosophical or literary material which gets me thinking about something in a way I’d failed to see it previously. If certain legacy components get tossed to the wind due to my new perspective, I see no reason to erase them from my past. It just means that I have to ensure they are qualified logically when they no longer apply, so that who I am is clear, and so that what I think and how I express it cannot be refuted merely by a perspective-impaired history lesson.

Thus, my duty should not be to comb for contradictions, but to explain why contradictions cannot exist, and thus why apparent contradictions are in fact evidence of growth and proof of perspective. My present does not refute my past. It complements it.

The weekend past saw an enlightening visit to Southern California, which within a few weeks will have successfully been washed away. Pity. Finally managed to meet Drub and Chuck at Pomegranate. Other gastronomic tourist stops includedMister Tiki and Jimmy Carter’s. Much weight was gained and cute neighborhoods seen.

Since I’ve nothing else to say today, I’ll just give you some links to visit from today’s GMAFB file:

• Oh, so that’s why tax and compensation structures make childless people overwhelmingly pay for other people’s individual, uncoerced choice to have children…
• So much for coming to the “Land of the Free”…
• The latest threat to the security of <hushed, reverent tone>The Homeland</hushed, reverent tone>: Zombies
• Yes, I am starting to think that all Republicans are white trash redneckswhose SUVs are more valuable than their houses trailers…
• Have I mentioned that I’m waiting with baited breath for this man to die?

I was spoiled last weekend with a whole couple days with absolutely nothing to do. Since then this week has been grinding. Long stressful days and evenings full of activity. I’m ready to just sit and net surf for a few hours with no other agenda…

But that will have to wait at least until next week. Tonight I have class and tomorrow we head off for a Central Valley road trip.

A dinner and visit with Dan last night led to some more rolling around in the psychological quagmire which is my urban outlook these days. I finally got it all out of my system with a long lonely walk through North Beach and Chinatown today.

I think I’ve learned a lot about what I should expect from where I live lately. I’ve learned that I can’t have it all. I’ve learned that in one way or another, I have to lower my expectations. The ideal environment in my fantasies is just that. It’s not something I should expect, nor gauge my experiences upon.

I will probably always live my life coveting the edgy urban experience I’ll never have the means or guts to make real. The key is to understand that the urban daemon kicked my ass and leave it alone at that. I have the ability to be happy without it. I’ll just always feel like I never got a chance to experience something that I really wanted to experience.

It’s just tough giving up on something like that. Like being at a party where everyone’s sharing a private joke about me that I just don’t get let in on. It feels mildy embarrassing and uncomfortable, and it probably won’t ever go away…

I’m having life anxiety lately. All the time. Every life situation I encounter reminds me of things that went wrong with my life, things that aren’t the way I wanted them to be. I’ve not made the wisest choices over the past few years and I need to fess up and change direction before I start seeing myself as a total failure.

I have a MA in Political Science where I studied security policy theory in Eastern Europe. I have spent the last 5 years of my life working in small business bookkeeping and accounting, with no academic training in it. With no adacemic work under my belt for 4 years, no foreign language ability, no publications and no experience, my education does not really qualify me for a any related career that I can think of. My work experience, being unrelated to my academic work, qualifies me for niche small-businesses which will tolerate that shortcoming, and my earning potential is drastically affected because of that.

This isn’t where I wanted to be a decade ago. I wanted to have a budding academic career, some publications under my belt and the potential for having a sturdy enjoyable 30s. The poor choices I’ve made over the past few years mean that this goal has been delayed a decade at least. For some reason the instability and psychological disillusionment I’ve been going through over the past couple years have sapped a lot of my ambition and expectations from life, and I’ve just sort of felt useless and drained.

It’s time to change that. I need to take charge of my future and stop being the architect of my own excesses and failures. No one else made me make the choices I’ve made. No one else can get me out of the hole I’m in. It’s up to me.

I have a lot of regrets that I did not take advantage of low housing prices in Fresno a few years back, when I really could have afforded a nice two-bedroom Tudor in the up-and-coming neighborhood…

But I’m really glad I’m not falling for the huge white elephant which is today’s housing market bubble. And I’m not the only one who think’s it’s so.

I don’t plan on buying a home in this market. Unless I were to get a Certified Rust Belt home, in a town unlikely to have experienced much housing inflation recently. Which sucks because my biological clock has reached its “need garage and garden” point.

Some advice, kiddies - I do not profess to be an economics or finance expert (well, maybe a little), but I think I’m well-read and smart enough to know my stuff here - take it or leave it:

• Most of America’s recent economic growth is due to asset price inflation and attributable to the finacial services sector
• Sustainable growth can only be achived through stable prices and productivity growth
• Most Americans are not making more money or being any more productive than they were 5 years ago - they’re just spending money from refinanced assets
• The rate of first-time homebuyer growth is vastly outpaced by the rate of second-time homebuyer growth. This means that in addition to buying plasma TVs with their refinanced houses, people are buying second houses with the cash from their refinanced first ones
• If interest rates go too high to justify the increasing asset financing we see today, people will stop buying second homes, and if this is accompanied by an economic slowdown or wage stagnation, people with excess property will start dumping assets
• If it comes to asset dumping, there’s going to be a huge glut of excess real estate flooding the market, right at the time when fewer people can afford it
• People will start selling upside-down real estate which has more owed on it than it’s value, and this will spiral down, down, down ending with a veryhard economic landing for every idiot that is fueling our economy with borrowed money and not saving a cent
• I will chuckle as the crash commences, and relish my unusually large (for an American) savings, which I will be earning better returns on than real estate due to an imploding housing market and higher interest rates
• I will chuckle harder as the bottom completely drops out, allowing me to use my savings to make a nice fat down payment on a property which was half again as expensive the year before…

Anyone want to bet an issue of Frugal Living whether I’m proven right within the next 5 years? Anyone have an argument which logically counters mine?

What is it about April that makes me unable to update?

At least this year I have the excuse of the pending relocation. Picture a 1000 sqft, 2-bed, 2-bath apartment with washer, dryer, dishwasher, disposal and two big roman tubs. Now picture us paying about 60% the rent we pay now for a 500 sqft 2-bed 1-bath apartment with none of those 4 other things. Now picture us wondering again what the advantages were of the place we left…

Wow. I predeict that Kirk Kerkorian is planning to increase his stake in GM even further in future months, and that he’ll identify allies on the board and among other large shareholders in a bid to shop the automaker around and sell it.

GM is such a waste case. I will totally not regret its passing. I really admire Kerkorian, though, and I hope he makes out like a bandit on this one (again!). Here’s hoping he lives long enough to enjoy it.

Anyone in Charlotte who ever visits the Midwood branch of the USPS, please be extra nice to Sharon, the extremely helpful woman who took the time to help David and I set up our address change via phone over the past few weeks. She was nice enough to overlook some of the bureaucratic obstacles and the small matter of 3000 miles distance to get us set up with a PO Box and forwarding… Not an easy task when so many stupid forms and verifications and signatures are required.

Ganked from kitashla:

“Grown Up Goths don’t worry about whether they still fit the label anymore. They know they identify best with that subculture and that if they decide to prance around in pink from time to time, it’s not going to make them any less Goth.”

I’ve sometimes been told that since I don’t go to the clubs, go to very few shows, and don’t do much “social” or have many goth friends, that I can’t really be “goth”. But you know, if I choose to identify with a specific social group or subculture, I will. You are free to call me what you want, but you probably won’t be able to convince me that the music and memories have had any less impact on who I am than I think they have. Fear my spooky, homebody, old fuddyduddy self…

An interesting exchange recently regarding the “love it or leave it” philosophy. Coincidentally, the Chronicle also published a rather candid reflection on San Francisco today as well… I knew David and I weren’t the only ones who have recognized the change in malls from one-size-fits-all shopping centres to specialized boutique villiages… Oh, I mean the change in cities from one-size-fits-all living and working centres to specialized boutique urban museums…

Whilst “love it or leave it” does, in fact, match our actions in regard to San Francisco, I think that the “love it or leave it” philosophy is intellectually lazy. Whether you’re talking about a dysfunctional bit of geography or a marriage or a movie, you have more than the choice of loving it and leaving it - there’s the possibility of tolerating it or endeavoring to improve it.

If I cared all that much anymore about the type of city I lived in or where it was, I would have the energy and inspiration to try to make San Francisco more livable for myself. If David and I are getting upset with each other, we engage in mutial psychoanalysis rather than break up. If a movie is boring, I get more popcorn and maybe start people watching or passing notes to the people I’m with in the theatre.

From Sister Betty: “Yet, sometimes we fool ourselves thinking the next place will be sparkly-shiney.  Pretty much nowhere is sparkly-shiney.  Every place is just somewhere else.”

That sums up my feelings of late. Don’t get me wrong, I still have my little obsessions, like Seattle and Pittsburgh and Canada, places that I just know can do no wrong - but that obsession would wear off as soon as I chose to live there. It’s no longer exactly about “where” for me as it is “how”. I’m choosing to go somewhere that will allow me a wider range of “hows”.

I doubt many people arrive at their dream city and spend years so happy they’re having a never-ending orgasm (unless you come to San Francisco and do nothing but go to sex clubs). People have their dream lifestyles and life is about building that dream. You never achieve it, because it’s a dream. It’s the process of building it that one has to look forward to.

And perhaps the opportunity to rant and rave about the people who are in your way and pissing you off about the smallest things as you go. Yeah, that’s what life’s all about…

• I sure will miss the weather here…
• I sure won’t miss anything else here…
• a quote from The Economist: “Tony Blair, for all his flaws, remains the best centre-right option there is” (italics mine).

I’m working on two new essays, which maybe I’ll complete on the train this weekend… One involves the blathering spew of an annoying fag who fancies himself an urban planner and sociologist. The other involves my feelings of satisfaction and vindication at the pending dissolution of not just one horrible corporate mediocrity, but two.

The following are tentative stops on our cross-country trek to our spiffy new home in Charlotte. I would like suggestions for places to see and people to meet, and most importantly, good food stops - from dives to fine dining.

• Los Angeles
• Phoenix
• El Paso
• Austin
• New Orleans
• Birmingham

The actual itinerary is changeable, but I’ll post it as it materializes, in case anyone in our path wants to join in on a meal.

Democrats: Tax! Spend!
Republicans: Spend!
Me: Get me the fuck out of here!

In other news, I shall now unveil the fairly solid itinerary for the road trip:

• Fri03: San Francisco-Fresno
• Sat04: Fresno-LA
• Sun05: LA
• Mon06: LA-Phoenix
• Tue07: Phoenix
• Wed08: Phoenix-El Paso
• Thu09: El Paso-Austin
• Fri10: Austin
• Sat11: Austin-New Orleans
• Sun12: New Orleans
• Mon13: New Orleans
• Tue14: New Orleans-Birmingham
• Wed15: Birmingham-Charlotte

I already feel my driving foot aching…

San Francisco is sort of like a really cute guy you’re trying to pick up at a bar, only to find out he’s a total tease. After a while you just realize maybe he’s so conceited he just wants to see how hard you’ll work to get him in bed. Ultimately, he may be cute, but he just ain’t worth the effort.

San Francisco: sure is pretty, but just not worth the effort. Not only is it tough to live here day-by-day, but getting out has proved one of the most difficult challenges of my life.

Some random items to demonstrate my point:

Everyone else is leaving, and thus getting a moving van is either impossible or too damn expensive (based on the prices I’ve seen, we could ship all our possessions by FedEx Ground and pay slightly less than the cost of a cross-country UHaul).

Vacating our apartment is a total chore. Since moving with our crappy furniture would be more expensive than replacing it on the other side, we’re trying to give it away or throw it away. No one else has any more room than us, so it’s hard to offer it to friends and neighbors (considering the average apartment size is 12 sqft). Unfortunately, the trash cans provided for an entire 4-unit buidiing here offer less capacity than the containers my parents have at their house in Clovis. We’ve filled them to capacity, risking the “wrath” of the asshole downstairs in the process, for several weeks in a row, and still have rubbish out the wazoo. We’ve tried leaving them out for rubbish collectors to pick up, but sometimes the homeless people get to them first and soil them with excrement, rendering them undesireable for donation.

Our neighborhood, being in the ghetto setting in which 75% of all San Franciscans reside, does not give us that sense of safety which would prompt us to leave all our Earthly possessions on the street for 12 hours, and thus we were up all night keeping watch on our moving pod. We watched as a drunk pissed on it, various gangbangers loitered on the street around it playing loud music all night and bouncing their stupid cars, and wondering what the hell we’d actually do if anyone tried to break into the thing or vandalize it.

Goodwill, the Salvation Army, and miscellaneous other thrift dealers are incredinbly picky about what they will accept. The poor are so coddled here that only the best rubbish will do. No used tupperware, no matter the shape it’s in; no booksheelves or end tables with flaws, sticker residue, or any sign of age whatsoever present. No used pillows, furniture or matresses, lest the donor have drooled or had sex on the delicate fabric’s surface at some point in the past. We must be picky about what we take for free.

Finally, no cathode ray tubes whatsoever. Since the State of California started taxing the sale of CRTs supposedly to pay for their safe disposal, they’ve become the most difficult things on Earth to dispose of. This is primarily because anyone accepting one is deathly afraid it’s dead and will need to be thrown out, and those safe and easy disposal sites/methods for which this new tax was supposed to pay don’t seem to be any more available now than they were before…

A transcontinental move is a tough thing to do on a budget. David had done it before, albeit in the opposite direction. It in no way prepared him for how horrible an experience it would be to reverse. San Francisco hasn’t gone to any lengths to make this a place in which I wanted to stay, and strangely it’s not a bit easier to leave this shithole behind.

… I wish that guy would make up his mind: does he want me to fuck him or does he want to go home alone. At this point, I don’t care one way or another.

It will take a while for me to forgive San Francisco for the horrible goodbye it’s given me. My last day will be consumed with more moving drudgery: numerous trips to the goodwill, paying exhorbiant fees to get still-useful furniture carted away, multiple trips to random trash-dumping facilities, avoiding the asshole downstairs and his vindictive schizophrenia, walking through the apartment with the nit-picky landlords and praying they don’t make us fix anything which was probably already broken 13 years ago when the lease was signed…

I haven’t had a chance to “enjoy” my home or the city it’s in for several weeks now. Tomorrow we leave for our 13-day trek to Charlotte. I can’t say I have any reasons to stay here any longer - I already feel like a battered wife just staying home that one extra day to round up the kids in order to flee my abuser with them in tow. It would have been nice to leave with something verging on a pleasant memory of this place, but all I feel now is severe, jaded fatigue. I’d like to trade notes with Bosnian refugees to see what parallels our experiences share.

After three years of taking it up the ass dry from this city, I say, “fuck you, too!” I don’t think I’ll miss you or anything about you for a long time.

In the midst of a whirlwind tour of the desert, some quick notes on the experiences so far…

Final packing and departure was tainted by one last bitch fight with the asshole downstairs, followed by a final visit to the FedEx station to send yet another cache of belongings ahead of us to David’s parents, as the true capacity of our tiny Carolla became all too clear.

We stopped in Cupertino to lunch with Dan at Cafe Mac, and I pondered the wonders of working for a wealthy, profitable, interesting company. I’m good with small, limited organizations - I’ve proven it - but damned if I don’t think working for a company with some actual available cash wouldn’t be nice. At least somewhere that can afford proper dining and toilet facilities…

The ride into Fresno was uneventful, until the second we arrived in the Red Roof parking lot, at which time the car decided it wanted a new exhaust system. Paranoia set in as we pondered the costs, all while preparing for David’s first formal quality time with my parents.

The latter actually went incredibly well. Both mom and dad minded their manners and in most cases were thoroughly pleasant. Perhaps the fact that their son now had a credible excuse for being unable to visit made them eager to send me off with a positive atitude. Either way, breakfast together was also planned for the following morning. Family bond forged, David finally has proper in-laws, I think.

Morning came and we dropped the car off at Midas for an exhaust inspection, trying to keep a cool head about the fact that we needed to make it accross the country and find jobs in Charlotte with this car, and we only had limited funds to achieve it all with. Luckily, my parents continued to be jovial and pleasant and even offered the use of their vacant house for the evening since we would now need an extra day in Fresno to get the car fixed.

When the call came from Midas, it was a mixed bag. A little more money than we wanted to spend, but the car was fixed and we’d only lost a day. We decided to alter the itinerary to include only one more night in California, with hopes that the future might hold an opportunity for an extended vacation in the Southland.

We finished off our stay in Fresno with a visit to Me-n-Ed’s Pizza, which I maintain is still the best Pizza in the world. Then it was off to the Riverside Motel 6, where we arrived in the late afternoon Sunday.

A whirlwind trek back across the Southland was made after touching down in Riverside in order to enjoy a special dinner at Saddle Peak Lodge, which a cursory search of LA-area restaurants had yielded. It was amazing. The decor was convincing as a hunting lodge of the snotty Californian variety, and the food started with tasy breads and sweet cream butter with kosher rock salt. This was followed by an enormous pile of mixed baby greens with a simple tossing of oil, vinegar, salt and pepper, which allowed the flavors of the actual greens to really come out. The main course was elk on a bed of bacon-wrapped salsify and baby spinach in a butter sauce. The elk was incredibly tender and tasted almost buttery even without a dip in the sauce beneath it. David had the buffalo, which I found tasted somewhat sweet, but much more mild than beef. This was accompanied by a goat cheese custard which I couldn’t finish once the meat was gone. A very successful foray into the fine dining world for me.

We headed back to Riverside for the evening, taking a cursory trip down Ventura Blvd and reminding ourselves how slobbery and horney LA makes us. LA is sort of a microcosm of everything I love about cities. It’s trashy, it’s full of money, it’s bright and shiney and sleazy and dense, yet sprawls across hundreds of miles in all directions. “Sprawliing Density” is how I described it. It’s unlike any other city and it totally fascinates me in every way. I doubt I could successfully live there, but I would love to spend a couple quality months thoroughly getting to know it.

The next morning we made a quick pass through the Inland Empire before bidding the greater-LA area a final goodbye for the foreseeable future. We wound our way along I-10 through the Palm Desert. I was somewhat impressed with Palm Springs, as I’m sure all fags are, and made a mental note to revisit the place someday. We crossed the border into Arizona in the late afternoon and remarked at how suddenly the huge phallic cacti seemed to emerge from the desert rock. Soon the Phoenix skyline was in view.

Today was devoted to getting to know Phoenix. It wasn’t hard - not because Phoenix is by any stretch borning, but because the city is so damn easy to get around in. Like Fresno, it exists in a utopian world where everythig is flat and square. Every street is a through street and if you find yourself in an undesireable neighborhood, two or three right turns will quickly deliver you out. Phoenix felt very much like ‘home’, with it’s relentless grid and solid suburban aura. The freeways seem almost superfluous, since you can easily charge your way through any part of the city even during rush hour on the friendly and high-capacity surface streets. I was even hard-pressed to find any areas of town which really frightened me. The real estate market seemed a little inverted - property seemed relatively cheap whilst rents were only about what I’d see as average for a suburban city. But damned if I didn’t feel incredibly comfortable in Phoenix. I could live here if given the right occupational inducements - something I’d be hard-pressed to say about anywhere in California anymore.

Tomorrow we head for El Paso for an evening, followed by Austin for a couple nights. I’ll try to get in another update or two.

After a brutal drive through the desert to El Paso, we found ourselves wishing that we could have spent more time in that particular border town. It was a rather charming city of about half a million, perched on the other side of the border from Juarez, a city of some 2 million. I yeared desperately to see Juarez, which is as close as the US-Mexico border has to something akin to the Detroit-Windsor metro or Niagara-Buffalo metro. But alas, with the longest drive of the trip looming and no passports in hand, we settled for a spin through El Paso and a promise to return someday.

West Texas sucks ass. There is nothing there. It’s hot as hell. 10 dull, boring hours after leaving El Paso, we finally started to see green again, and civilization’s rudiments were appearing on the horizon. We passed through charming Fredericksburg on the 290 as we approached Austin, then the car decided to die. After waiting in a field on the side of the highway for an hour, the AAA tow arrived and was kind enough to deposit our car at the local auto wrecker and us at the Motel 8.

A restless night later, and we’re in Fredericksburg for another day to await arrival of the title to the car, which we now are eager to have in-hand should we choose to offload the thing before we arrive at our final destination. For now, the car is running at its usual bitchiness. We’re taking it to Austin tomorrow where we’ll get it checked out again, after which we’ll decide where we go from here…

The car is tentatively working, despite burning some oil and running a bit too hot in the super-humid gulf daylight air. We had to scuttle plans for a stay in Austin and a leisurely few days in New Orleans in favor of zipping home to Charlotte as quickly as possible. We should be there by Tuesday night.

In the meantime, we overnighted Saturday in Houston. Massive city, massive heat, massive humidity. I experienced quite possibly the hottest environment of my life - upper 90s and a swealtering heat index which surpassed anything I experienced in the western deserts during my upbringing in Fresno. The Gulf Coast in June is like being trapped in someone else’s mouth.

But despite the weather, Houston was a beautiful city which bears a repeat visit, when we have real time to really explore.

This morning it was on to New Orleans. Rather than an extended stay to explore and enjoy, we settled for a single night - enough time to attend tonight’s Prime party and see my favorite author Poppy.

Louisiana has some vendetta against our suspension system. As soon as we crossed the state line out of Texas, the road started lurching as if every second freeway section was sinking - which may well it may have been - except for some reason Texas seemed capable of treating the problem and preventing it from repeatedly launching us into low-altitude orbit.

Just a couple more paranoid hours of Louisiana driving remaining before we make our way northeastwards to our new home. Tomorrow we’ll take a turn around New Orleans with promises to return. This trip has, if anything, become a lesson in where we need to revist. The current short list (only including the places touched the past week): LA/SoCA, El Paso/Juarez, Houston, New Orleans.

Tomorrow night we overnight in Montgomery and I get to add 3 more states to my List, then on to Greensboro to pick up our stuff from David’s parents before landing at our new home in Charlotte on Tuesday. Next vacation: new car, new home, new job, smaller itinerary.

Finally in the new home and wondering what we’re going to sit on before we get jobs and can afford a new couch.

From New Orleans we made our way to Montgomery for one evening and then on to Greensboro to meet up with all of our 30-something FedEx boxes at David’s parents’. Two late nights later we have an apartment full of boxes and a lot of work to do.

Next week we look for that new car. Oh, yeah, and jobs.

Yes, I did make it to Charlotte alive. Yes, we’ve moved in and the new place is just peachy. Yes, every telecoms provider in the world sucks horse’s ass, which is why I’m not updating. Still awaiting a reliable internet connection, at which time I may return to my normal updating self.

It feels like home. I grew up in Fresno, which shares Charlotte’s “big city aspirations” whilst also being undeniably mid-sized and suburban. Fresno, sandwiched between LA and SF, and not being a state capital or transit hub, has a lot going against it as far as growth and importance, but still manages to consistently chalk up some of the swiftest growth in California. Charlotte is similar: sandwiched between Atlanta and DC, not a capital, but obviously a clear ssuccess in establishing itself and maintaining swift growth.

Dayahm, the houses are cheap (compared to the West Coast). I must get me one. I predict it will be a year or two before I’m on solid enough financial feet to do so, however. Meanwhile, Ug’s still buying the ugly houses and creating that infamous false scarcity which continues to push up real estate prices. Once again, I implore my solidly middle-class readers: do not fall for it! Get yourself one home that you feel is a good value and which you would like to live in for the long haul. The real estate market is going to crash and burn in the next mild recession, and I don’t want to be one of the unlucky speculators. With the high probability that I’ll be working in the financial services sector, I’m exposed enough to real estate market swings as it is…

Food, food, food. We live in the south-east tip of Charlotte (or the north-west tip of Matthews, depending on whether you believe the county cartographers or the postal service). Within 2 miles of our apartment we have about 15 big-box retail options, including a Wal Mart Supercenter, and about 50 inexpensive but tasty food options (about 75 percent of which are chains). We have eaten about half our meals out since we arrived, and no two have been at the same place. Despite the horror which is Independence Blvd at rush hour, our neighborhood is incredibly convenient for all our needs. There are few things we need that can’t be had within above said 2-mile radius. I could NEVER have said this about our last neighborhood in SF.

To beat that dead horse yet again, I ask: what were the advantages/ conveniences of living in SF? No one has answered this in the two years or so that I’ve been asking…

Sparkley-shiny: Perhaps no “place” is necessarily better simply as a “place”, but Charlotte seems to work very well - similar to the way I felt Fresno and Phoenix worked well: the transit/road network is designed in such a way that it doesn’t necessarily seem entirely sensible or efficient, but it all works well and is incredibly conducive to helping one find things and settle in. Only one week on and I’ve already got my bearings, I’m finally remembering where things are and how to get to them, despite how alien the non-grid thing is to my west-coast-flat-lander self. Also, the various shopping and services seem well-placed and evenly spaced, and there is an abundance of integration and diversity - both of land use and of people.

Basically, I’ve not been disappointed one bit by Charlotte. If anything, my expectations (admittedly lowered to the southernmost reaches of the sewar by life in SF) have been vastly exceeded. There were those little matters of Bellsouth selling us DSL which was not available in our area, Timewarner losing our connection order several days later, and the landlord failing to even show up to repair our DOA laundry facility to date, but these are pretty paltry - I expect very little from telecoms: I think they all suck. Despite the fact that having our own laundry room was one of the vital reasons we moved into this particular place, the laundromats in Charlotte actually work, and don’t feel like the Gulag they resembled in the Bay Area.

Finally, a bit of oddness to throw into the mix: my mom called me last weekend and offered me her car. The one in their garage in California. Since we were preparing ourselves to buy a new car for the commuting Charlotte’s job market will demand, this is an opportunity to hang onto our limited funds a bit longer - buying a reliable used car we figured would run us 8k-9k. A flight home a 5 nights of road boarding will run us about 1500 bucks. Thus, I’ll be taking a ride to California on the 4th of July to pick up said car and do that transcontinental drive one more time. This will be a solo flight, and I’m still trying to decide whether to take a bit longer and enjoy a few more unseen sights, or just fly through as fast as possible. Once I decide, I’ll post the itinerary.

Once I return with my own set of wheels, the real fun of finding a job, making a few friends and doing some networking, and taking someone up on their Sushi Tour of Charlotte offer can finally get off the ground.

PS: My birthday is next week (Thu 30 Jun). If you’re feeling generous, I’ve updated my wishlist…