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fuck this, I like that.
2004-02-20-11:15 p.m.
Finally home. At least for the weekend, I'll fly back out on Monday morning. Fuck flying, Fuck every place that isn't Houston, even if San Diego was a nice place. Fuck Airports, fuck 6 flights in 5 days, fuck baggage claim, fuck putting my tray table in it's upright position and getting arm cramps from sitting too long. And I have at least another 2 straight weeks of this. I know what I like, and what I want. I love where I live, it is my home, and I don't like being forced to leave it for weeks on end, even if the money is good. But like everything else, it will pass, and nothing is permanent. I'm trying to see the good in this, in going back to a hotel room all night by myself, or going out to see how much we can spend on appetizers and steak and drinks on the company's dime every night. But it's not me. I like going to dinner with my girlfriend and my roommate, watching stuff on my TiVo, going to my grocery store, my movie theater, my hardware store, my post office, in my neighborhood.
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