Adage Defiance

They say you can't go home again. Well, apparently they're no better at telling you what you can't do than they are at telling you what you should. Despite the fact that SEI has been hit with bitter cold so hellacious that it actually froze the locks inside my car doors, despite the fact that I haven't found a job yet (more than likely due to the obnoxiously full trash can in Tim, Ash, John and Adam's kitchen nearly overflowing with the results of my renewed enthusiasm for frequent bouts of drinking than the poor job market), despite the fact that my ass still hasn't recovered from sitting in a car for three days, I can say something that I don't remember being able to say more than a few random times in California.
I'm happy.
Sure, I'm worried about finding a job, but I'm slowly getting back into the mindset that wherever I end up working isn't going to redefine me as a person. Yeah, my car's a little worse for wear for having traveled across the country for the second time in under a year, but the fact that it looks more beat up isn't sending me into ridiculous bouts of self-loathing due to being perceived as aesthetically inferior based solely on my primary method of transportation. No, it isn't sunny every day, but with the people I came back to and the new ones I've met since coming home, it sure as fuck feels like it sometimes. My brother Matt's been keeping himself in decent order in terms of staying out of trouble, despite the ridiculous level of fun we've been having. Will's still the same fun, obnoxiously understanding know-it-all he was when I left, and thank God for that because if his sojourn to Iowa had changed him I was going to have to nuke the whole state. Susie's still the pain in the ass in that way that makes you wonder if you should backhand her or laugh.
Even better, Shots at 4AM. I know, I already mentioned drinking, I'm not talking about my alcohol abuse this time. Susie introduced me to a crew that I could almost swear was the result of God trying to balance out the frustrating dipshits out in Cali that I had to deal with. Tim, Ash, John and Adam have all done more than their part to reassure me that coming home was a damn good idea, and considering how much of their beer I've guzzled in the last couple of weeks, proven that saints really do exist. During one particularly insane evening, with Will in attendance as well, while downing the first vodka shot I've put down in years, I decided that our inebriated revelry deserved a name that would confuse people as much as our own respective rebellions infuriate those around us. Long story short, Shots at 4AM consists of some of the best people ever looked down on by the world. If for no other reason than they helped me expose yet another age-old line for the bullshit that it is.
The only thing that's really made me miss California is the one person who actually made the experience survivable. Kasey was a damn oasis in that hellish desert, and if there's anyone I dread falling out of touch with, it's her. While I've got a crew here that's making life rock harder than I ever thought it could, it doesn't make the crazy heathen rock any less. If you're reading this, don't you ever fucking change, and I'm sorry it took so long to get back to you. Obviously, I've been a teensy bit fucked up, and you're never up late enough to drunk dial.
History's full of advice and guidelines. Some of it's sound, but mostly, it's outdated and, all too often, worth about as much as the shit the progenitors of said advice probably slept in.
Consider the piece fronting this entry proven as the latter.
I'm home.