This was the scene at Mom Dukes crib over the Holidays. I love the snow, but when you can't go anywhere for a few days, you may get a little stir crazy. I did. Be careful what you wish for... I pleaded with the gods for snow...and they obliged. THANKS GODS! I didn't mean a FOOT of snow and shitty driving conditions. If I wanted that, I'd visit Cambodia during the summer solstice. Anyway, I'll be sure to be more specific next time I ask you for anything. Watching the snow fall was nice, and I recommend it to anyone and everyone, especially whilst sipping a nice red or some Makers on the rocks. And you know what happens when that wine starts flowing... I start thinking to myself ... ahhh Tacoma. When going home to Tacoma there is always such a weird phenomenon that takes place between myself and the town I grew up in. It's almost as if Tacoma is human or even a female, whom I'm in a relationship with. I long to visit, but when I get there it treats me like shit. I stick around hoping things will change, but they never do so I leave. But when I leave I always get this strange feeling that Tacoma actually has feelings, and now it feels saddened and rejected by my departure. Like any hot/cold, love/hate relationship, I think that's the strange bond you're supposed to develop with your hometown. If everything was perfect, you'd stay forever. Maybe Tacoma knows I love another place and it shows me the mercy from having to make a difficult decision... Sorry, the runner at my work, the homie Andrew distracted me with discussions of baldheads and nothingness.
Anyway, this blog goes out to my hometown, Tacoma, Washington aka T-Town, Tac-Town, The Dirty Taco, as my buddy Steffen likes to call it, and many other names I'm sure. Tacoma, I thank you for raising me with such incredible compassion, diversity and hard knocks. I had it good growing up thanks to my unbelievable Mother, but it wasn't hard finding those hard knocks I speak of. They we're all around. Especially for the curious little adolescent that I was. All I can ask of you at this point Tac, is to keep my family and friends who still call you home safe, and please keep treating me like shit because I don't want to come back. I feel the reason you treat me so is to keep me focused. Never stop remembering, but never look back. Maybe I'm like your son who you shoved off to Phoenix then LA, and as much as you'd like me home, you're proud of your son, and you know there's a greater purpose for me. I must be vain to think my city thinks of me like this or maybe this is the strange reality I create for myself to keep me pushing forward. Whichever it is, this is not only my life, but this stream of conciousness I call a blog is probably one of the most ridiculously disjointed and self absorbed thoughts I've written in three days.