In which I feel utterly fantastic, now that I’m doing something.

When I got home from work yesterday Bghead was on the porch with his laptop saying, “I just read your blog! We’re going to lose you?!” When I told Truck and Bowling Jesus that I’d decided to move to Washington, Truck said, “Good. I’m not surprised. It sucks for me, though.” When we were playing cards last night, Baby Girl said, “I’m happy for you, but I hate you. Now I’m going to have to be friends with some bimbo or something.”

My desire to move west has morphed overnight into a burning need to leave. I want out. Pronto. I’ve developed a sudden and wicked case of I Hate Fairfield Syndrome: the weather disgusts me, the bugs annoy me, it’s boring, and it’s ugly. The whole state is run down, flat, empty, and looks poor. Driving the jeep earlier today I realized that the only time Iowa really charms me is when the weather is acting like it would somewhere else.

I’ll miss my friends, of course, but the details of Iowa living have suddenly become things I desperately need a break from. I want good food, good coffee, clothes that I didn’t buy at Walmart, and the option of hanging out outdoors for more than three months out of the year without suffering from exposure. I want access to jazz instead of nothing but classic fucking rock. It’s totally backwards here, in the inbred redneck sense of the word, and aren’t I actually somewhat hipper than this? At least a little?

I can always come back when I re-remember that people in “the real world” are actually shallow, venial, soulless automatons with whom it is nearly impossible to form real, meaningful relationships. There may be nothing to do here, but the folks in this town are deep, bitches, and no doubt about it. Even our sloppy drunken rampages revolve around personal growth and deep communication. It’s awesome.

But I’ve had a surfeit of it. I’m so ready for some natural beauty! Mountains. Water that isn’t stagnant. Air that smells clean! PINE FORESTS. OCEAN. I’m about to give myself apoplexy just thinking about being somewhere else. I suddenly loathe humidity, and the summer storms this year aren’t charming – they’re just pissing me off.

In other news, my mom invited me to stop at her place in Wyoming on my way through. (She and her husband moved there a few years ago from Portland.) Then she said, “Get this far and you will be in good hands, and before the winter is over you could even get walls in the area you would be living in downstairs. Besides, {your step dad} mentioned last evening that if you got this far you could probably get a job here as they are always, and I mean always looking for computer people.”

The woman is trying to get me to move to Wyoming! WYOMING! What the hell kind of mom would do that to a daughter?

Since I’m totally into the letting the Universe decide, though, I’m going to apply for one of those jobs. And if I get it, I’ll live in Wyoming for awhile. In my mother’s basement. That’ll teach her. Heh.