Time to go...

Well, this is it.
Tomorrow, this M.A.Y.A. is going East. It won't be long before I'll be forced to consider myself a full-fledged adult. I'm actually a bit excited for it. I'm looking forward to going gray, but that is easily tempered by my sadness in my looming bald spot.

I'm trying to remember how I felt when I left for San Angelo. It seems like ages ago: so much has happened since that decision and that destination.
I remember events. It was New Years and I went to a party with a bunch of people from Barnes and Noble. My friend Pamela was completely hammered and she professed her love for me. I'm pretty certain that she poured out her adoration because of the booze, but no matter. This one girl that I really like wasn't there and this other girl I liked was there, but was in a heated conversation with another guy. Heated as in confrontational, not to be disturbed.

Jason was house-sitting and I spent New Years and a few other nights there. I'm still sworn to silence about one night in particular, but it still comes up in awed laughing fits.

During the last Sunday at church, I stood in front of the congregation while people prayed for me. The only recollection of the prayer was Pastor Tom saying, "Thrust him out, Lord! Thrust him out!" At my left, Pastor Glenn was laughing.

I remember going on a date with Mariam. We went to Steamers and the Rockin Taco. We listened to KCRW on the ride home. I could have stayed for her.

Before I left, I had lunch with Pastor and he told me that if it didn't work out, I could always come back home.

Even though I remember events, I don't remember feelings. I just got in a car, turned on "Take it Easy" and drove. The story was so outlandish, the circumstances so unlikely, just taking the trip was wild enough. Romantic and diffuse, the experience fulfilled its definition.


I did come back home and I have been in Los Angeles for almost 4 years. I never returned back to Steamers Cafe, even though that was my place. Falling in love with Long Beach, I swore I found my pond to swim in. Things coalesced and life codified.

Of course, that didn't last long. I'm not rehashing all of it, but I can tell you the end/beginning. It was at the Indianapolis Zoo on a bench in front of the gorillas. Kate and I were talking about God and I had presented my theological treatise to her. She can tell you it was quite something. I was quite impressed with myself. She wasn't. We ended up on this bench and we sat close for just a second, then moved on. In that moment, it ended and started.

So, a little more than two years later, I leave again. This time, I'm not leaving home because I don't consider Los Angeles my home. Really, the roots I had are now exposed in the sun. Church, career, friends, family...it's not the same. My thesis talked about identity construction and religion. I feel like I've reconstructed myself in a way: going to D.C., still being single, finding no solace in the forms of Christianity I grew up in, not going into the ministry (but this one might still have a happy ending), leaving the newsroom. More deeply, that treatise I gave Kate proved to be askewed. Not by much, but now with one new qualifier at the start: I don't know and I'm fine with that.

Well, there it it. As Karina wrote to me, it's good to obey the inner nudge. Inklings and nudges, a wink and a nod. At least it saves paper.