So it's 5.5 degrees Fahrenheit right now.

5.5.

Not cool.

I am reminded of going three weeks in Las Palmas without hardly ever wearing a shirt...in October and November.  And frankly, that just sounds real good right now.

I've been back in Illinois for over a month and a half right now.  And I think I have sucked it dry again.  A few meals with people, a few memories to hold me over, but I feel like I've maxed it out again.

The clincher came a few days ago...right before New Year's Eve.  It was January 30, and I ended up staying up until 3:30 A.M.  With no real rhyme or reason...I just didn't have anything to do otherwise.  To sleep would be boring, to not sleep maybe the same.  But that night, I opted for the latter.

I ended up waking up at 2:00 P.M. the following day.  And the most depressing part about it was that I was thrilled that it was so late in the day.  That way, I wouldn't have to sit around for as many hours that day.  The day was already halfway over, and that meant that I didn't have to figure out a way to make those slow hours pass.

And I hate it.

I've tried to have a positive outlook on this weird stage in life, I really have.  But it has come to the breaking point as of late.  I am 25 years old, I am living with my parents, I am in transition between jobs with no certainty of the future, I couldn't apply for a job three weeks ago because I would have to tell them I would be laid up for several weeks following surgery, I feel bad applying for a job now because I would have to tell them I would leave them in a few weeks, and on and on and on.  Maybe I was wrong for that, I don't know.  I just don't want to be "that guy" to an employer.

And I hate it.  Every day, I want to wake up with a purpose.  I want to go to work, I want to add something to society, to myself, to others.  I want to look forward to spending time with someone, anyone.  I want co-workers to mingle with, I want a girl to call me, I want a guy to call me, I want to not want the nights to come so quickly.

Anyway, the past week has absolutely been a low point for me.  It has been miserable.  The surgery appears to have gone well, and I won't know for certain until after the cast comes off, and I start physical therapy.  But for now, I'll live if only a few weeks with that dream.  So that is somewhat encouraging.

But like I said, there just doesn't seem to be much for me here.  I'm runnin' away from what I ran away from before.  I desperately want people to hang out with, and I'm just not findin' it!!!  I went to Europe to escape that, and now I'm goin' to another Europe, I suppose.

I'm leavin' for California in 30 minutes.  Now I know in my heart of hearts that I'm not goin' to find a best friend in San Diego.   I know I won't meet her in Amarillo.  I know he won't be at the Grand Canyon.  I realize that.  But right now, anywhere is better than here.  I would rather spend a week in a car than a week on a couch.  At least the scenery changes.

And I do get to spend the next 168 hours with a best friend.  We've hit 11 states in 86 hours, we've ridden bulls together, we've gone to Oregon and back with more memories than we could (or should!) ever share, and we've drunk deep from life.

But we're thirsty again.

Ruble is on his way to pick me up.  No motorcycle this time.  No fake hand.  No Florida beaches.  No freezing Oregon temperatures.  No kamikaze hawks.  No nuclear testing facilities.  No Montana drug rehabs.  No South Dakota beds.  And certainly no South Dakota "previats."  No Bobo BBQ.  No Washington deserts.  No North Dakota trains.  And no Iowa smells.

But a whole lot of goodness.  (And probably some more Texas 5-0.)

So San Diego, here I come.  Here we come.  It looks like we'll have to brave some chilly weather to get to you.  And probably some other mishaps along the way, too, if our previous trips have taught us anything.  I guess that just goes with the territory.

But with a friend ridin' next to ya, I don't really care if I make it.

The journey is good enough for me.