Being stuck in the city for 10 months has been one hell of an experience. I've been homeless, I've lived with tweakers, trannies and hustlers, I've worked at Starbucks and now I work in a porn store, I've been robbed, hustled, and innumerous other things. What it comes down to is that San Francisco, as wonderful as it may be at times, is a long, long way from home.
I got the chance to escape, albeit briefly, for about a week and a half to go back to my home state, Kentucky. Being back there made me realize a lot of things about myself, my present state, what I want right now, and what I'm doing with my life. If you've ever been to the country, then you know life is a lot different than it is in the city.
In the country, everything slows down tremendously. There's no more hectic hustling and bustling like there is in the city. Everyone just understands and appreciates the value of taking your time. You really don't have too much of a choice, anyway, because even going in to town can be a forty-five minute drive.
I noticed how a lot of things have changed with me since I left, but every single one of my friends was the exact same. About the only differences were that some of their accents, along with their waists, had thickened.
One thing I find kind of funny is that my accent never developed until I moved out to the city. Being so far away from home in so many ways really puts a lot of things into perspective. I've developed a more definite idea of what I want, like, or whatever than I had when I was back home. I guess that just kind of happens, though, when you're forced to manage for yourself instead of being able to rely on others to help you out when you need it. Not to say I've become totally independent, but I don't think that'll ever happen, anyway.
Being back home and away from here definitely helped me a lot. There was just too much going on and I really wanted to just get the fuck out and relax, so I did. It was therapeutic, I think. To breathe fresh air and not have to wash your hands every five minutes because of the grime that collects on them from just being exposed to the outdoors. Also, to not have to see crackheads or drunks all around, or to have someone asking you for a cigarette or some spare change every block. It's just simple country living.

I stayed on a farm. A fucking 243 acre farm with seven fucking lakes, three of which you can fish in. I never got to go fishing, though. Maybe next time. But I did get to go boating in the lake in the back yard. I rowed so hard at one point that afterwards it felt like I broke a rib. But I didn't. It just really hurt. While I was boating, however, I got to attack the plastic half-dragon in the lake. It was exciting. Invigorating, even!
I trekked about a mile back on the farm with my friends Adam and Sarah. And the dogs. I raced them. The dogs, that is. Not Adam and Sarah. It was cool.
Adam's my best friend back in Kentucky and I were staying on his doctor's farm, because that's where he's been living. A lot of shit happened with the doctor, so Adam and his "boyfriend" live there to keep him company and help him out around the farm. Adam and his doctor have this sort of dysfunctional father-son relationship because they have the common bond of gayness.
Yhea, gays in Kentucky. Weird, isn't it? Not really, actually. When I think about it, it makes perfect sense. The weird part is how accepted they are. That's what comes as a surprise. It's not like that's a bad thing, though. I think it's wonderful that my friends don't have to worry about persecution or alienation because of who they are. I speak from experience when I say it's not a good feeling.
I got to stay at my parents house for a couple days while they were out of town. It was kind of cool to stay in that house again. I would say "that old house," but it's barely ten years old. Not like it's dilapidated or anything. It was, however, the first house on our street, which is kind of cool. We're like, the Originals of Melanie Court.
Every street in my subdivision is named after something or someone from "Gone With The Wind." I've never read it, but that's what mom says. The subdivision's called "Twelve Oaks." If you know anything about the book, then maybe that makes sense to you.
For a little while, while I was staying in my parents' house, it really felt like I'd never left. The recliner was gone, so it didn't feel quite the same, but it still kind of felt like I'd been there all along. But I knew I hadn't. I'm not sure if I wanted to have been there all along, though. I think being out here's been for my own good. But visiting home feels good, too, you know?
A few things in town had changed, though. There's a new Wal-Mart. Score. The town's growing. And there's another smoke shop. But really, that was about it. They finally finished the street they were adding when I left, along with building a couple of houses. They were building it right at the end of our road. My friends and I used to go up there to watch sunsets and sunrises behind the tree-line. It's kind of sad, but not really. We've all grown apart, so it's not like we can really go up there anymore.
A few of us lived in the same neighborhood, or within less than a quarter-mile of each other. That made hanging out really convenient. We'd usually convene at Wendell's and just hang out and get fucked up or something.

I still miss it, but not as much as I did. I'm kind of addicted to the city, now, though. I love being here and all the fucked up things that happen. I know, however, that I'll eventually get bored of it and want to move on. I've always wanted to go to Minneapolis again. Maybe I will.