New Record!

Time to say Goodbye Florida, Hello California (and all those other states in between). The trip is nearly all set. I'm on the verge of setting a new personal record for number of addresses in one year. I hate moving. I feel like I'm caught up in some rip current being carried out to sea or something. I was talking with a good friend of mine today about it. About how I really hope/pray/whatever that I can find a place to settle into for the kids to grow up in so they don't have to grow up moving from place to place. He pointed out that kids do need a good anchor. I said "ya, a good anchor or a good rudder, just as long as you don't forget your paddles while traveling up Shit Creek".
Speaking of Shit Creek, Mapquest estimates 47 hours of driving. That's DRIVING, not stopping and gassing up or getting food or running into traffic, DRIVING. You remember when the Coyote follows the Roadrunner off the cliff and the only thing holding him up is that dust cloud? He sticks his paw out the bottom to feel around for dirt as the cloud disappears and he holds up that sign that says "Why me O lord? Why does this always happen to me?" That's about how I feel. Seeing that estimated 47 hours of drive time.... by myself, with a cat and two infants in an SUV pulling a trailer.... ya, I feel totally screwed. The suck part is that while I totally want to throw the most childish blame throwing hissy fit at Lorie, ...stomp, scream, throw her license plates in a dumpster (nothing says revenge like making someone go to the DMV), the works... nobody forced me to take the job and move out to Florida. I jumped off the cliff all by myself. It won't do any good to toss my plates in the dumpster 'cause I already have to go to DMV to get new ones. FUCK! I'm tired, in over my head, lonely and I feel really, really stupid. Thank God I've done stupid stuff before 'cause otherwise it'd be really easy to sit down and have a grand old pity party. I'm 33 (almost 34), this is not the first or last time I have completely screwed myself. Or as Neal Cassady put it "this is not the last time I committed suicide."
When I was a kid, a friend of mine, Holly, gave me a story on record (yes, vinyl) called Nathaniel The Grublet ( www.goccc.com/nagrmuleabho.html ) . It's a musical story about a good little grublet caught up into some stuff that's out of his control but because he still did his best to follow what was right, he saves the day..... it was code for a kid caught up in a gang finds "God" and is "saved" and ends up "saving" his friends. I didn't really know that as a kid though, I just liked the songs.

I'm Nathaniel
and a grublet I was very proud to be
working hard and honestly
doing good and helping everyone I see
I can't help it
but I look into my sack and soon reveal
that I just don't like to steal
Oh I wish they understood the way I feel
I may be young
but I'm old enough to know what's right
what's wrong
So when I feel blue
and I don't know what to do
I just sing
this song
Some day
Some how
things are gonna change I know
Keep on smilin'
even when you're feeling low
Some day
Some one's
gonna show you what to do
some thing great is gonna happen soon
I know

Something like that anyway. It's been at least 15 years or longer since I heard the song. What a comforting thought though. I know you're wondering around, feeling lost and confused, but someone is going to finally give you a complete map to success.
Well, I'm not a little kid anymore. I just do good things because I like to do good things and then stuff like this "job" with Lorie happends and I feel like Sisyphus all over again. Maybe things will change when I turn 40. God I sure hope I don't have to wait that long! I don't want to move ever again after I find a place in California this time. I'm sick of having an ok rudder, it's time for an anchor or better yet, a bitchin' harbor. Maybe one like Balboa.
So Please, burn some incense, light some candles, wish on stars, pray, or whatever it is you do.... 47 hours of driving is a long ass trip, I want it to be a good one.