Tiny Tim had it right

So many things spinning around in my brain right now, don’t know if I’ll be able to make sense of up vs. down, right vs. left, and San Diego vs. NYC vs. Raleigh vs. Atlanta (the four cities that I’ve graced with my presence in the last 7 days.) Thus this is a conglomerate, a cluster-fu*k if you will, of this, that, the other and a whole lot more.

Let’s begin.

I am looking out my window of this sub-zero computer lab at this enormous tree that is reaching out for attention, leaning and standing and just massive in its trim, natural beauty. Behind the tree appears to be a church tower, just one of the facades of Mission Valley, my present location. There are houses perched precariously on a hilltop and the angle of the sun is quietly enlightening some of the foliage while other areas remain shaded. It’s truly a beautiful and understated site, a surprise from the Over-AC’d room o’ bits and bytes and computerspeak.

Soon I will get in my new favorite vehicle, a 2002 Mitsubishi Eclipse Spyder, a car that never before I had noticed but now am desperate to own. It’s a sporty, sprightly little bugger, with its V6 engine allowing me to zoom in front of the all-too-frequent cement trucks and it’s (perfect for San Diego) toplessness allowing me to easily cut in front of others, as I believe they’re afraid of hitting a blonde with her hair flying about in a car with no roof. Either that, or my Southern appeal has somehow charmed them. It travels through air, you know.

I’m sad to leave this place, as it’s warmed on me a lot since my last visit where I was surprisingly underwhelmed. Perhaps it was the weather, which was perfect and perfectly contrasted the rain in ATL, the ice storm of NC, and the ear-aching biting cold of NYC. Whatever it is, if I could somehow take refuge in this valley, an oasis in the midst of the upcoming Cleveland gray, drab, freezing winters and a calm in the frenzy of daily/nightly Holiday parties, I happily would. If I could just abscond my little car and live out of my enticingly small suitcase for another week or, heck, year, sign me up. But it’s nearly time to leave, to return to the reality that is my life, my forever-exciting assessment of epidemiological software in sub-saharan Africa, and to that, I am underwhelmed.

Maybe it’s the flight, a Red Eye that gets into Atlanta at 5:20am. Maybe it’s the frantic pase that will ensue as soon as I return. Or maybe I just like San Diego, its climate, its fish tacos, its sushi at every corner, but whatever it is, I’m itchin’ to stay. Futile, I know.

So that’s me, now, here, and I’ll soon be me, there, doing that. I’ll throw on my red ball gown and enjoy the delight of the Four Seasons, I’ll cavort in that same ruby-red wonder of a frock at my dear friends’ birthday and Holiday bash later that evening, and heck, you never know, I may even be found on the dance floor of Atlanta’s finest establishment, Hole in the Wall, in said gown. And I suppose, when it comes down to it, it’s worth it. The holidays are when we hustle and bustle and see our family and friends, our likes, our loves, our ex’s, and perhaps it’s the glow in the air or the fact that it gets dark at 5pm, the twinkling Christmas lights or the magic of holidays past, anxiously awaiting to see if Santa came, that makes everything alright. Makes us a bit disillusioned, a bit giddy, and a lot forgiving. It’s the “God Bless Us Everyone” syndrome that is the true Holiday Spirit that is nothing less than magical and, well, I must say I’ve got it.

Hoping you do too,

PS: Yes, I’ve finally redesigned my website. You can even leave me your comments on this or my older posts, but be nice — my ego is a bit fragile.

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