Wednesday, August 19, 2015

I missed Phoenix for the first time.  I think it was sleeplessness mixed with the frustration of too many minor mishaps and disruptions in my daily life.  I seem to really require a feeling of absolute peace and safety at home and when it's disrupted, I'm completely disturbed.

But I thought about the wide flatness and caliche and old citrus trees and oleanders and canal water sluicing silently through the city at night.  I didn't miss it, I just felt like it was a place where everything is completely understood and, although boring, pretty safe.  I might've wanted to be there for that moment.

Do not tell my mother.

It's probably that the summer heat is tiring now and that I'm frustrated too often and spending all of my money on terribly mundane shit, but life in Central Texas seems so charmless compared to how I felt before.  I don't see the greenery as much, am forgetting the dusty lifeless brown of the Sonoran desert, and didn't feel the swell of "oh thank god" the last time I drove home from the airport.  I travel every other month or so, and the first four or so times I left Austin, I felt annoyed and resentful: I wanted to stay here!  I didn't want to leave for a day!  And when I watched the shadow of the plane land at pathetic Bergstrom airport, I was so relieved. 

Someone told me that moving out of state is very traumatizing.  I don't think it was for me.  Getting in an absurd car accident was a thousand times more traumatic.  The only traumatic thing about my move was staying overnight in Van Horn, Texas.  For that I owe my good friend Andrea an all expenses paid trip to someplace exotic and, some day, I'll give it to her.  Is Galveston Island exotic?  It is to me!  They have turtles and everything.

My mother and poor grandmother have made comments about 15 times since I moved about my eventual move back - asking if my employer has Phoenix offices, and letting me know that there's no humidity in central Arizona, and that I can call them in January when it's 30 degrees and raining and blowing in Austin to get a real nice description of Phoenix's sunny 65 degree day.  I laugh every time, because my grandma is 80 and I can't argue with her.  But it's strange to me that my mom still thinks that when I leave here, it'll be to Arizona.  Maybe I will one day, but when I do, I sure as hell won't be in my 30s.