The Journey Ahead

I’ve been sitting at my desk all day trying to figure out what it was that I needed to do. I had this horrible feeling that I’ve been forgetting something all week, and it finally dawned on me that in the midst of trying to stay on top of everything else, I’d totally spaced on writing this. Thank God I remembered at the last possible second.

It’s been a totally crazy two weeks. Along with wrapping up our last episode of season 3 production, we had our wrap party, I wrote three articles in one week for one of my other jobs, and I’m prepping for a labor day weekend road trip up to San Francisco with the roommates. Not to mention maintaining my other jobs (I have four total–one I do in person and three I work on remotely)  and trying to plan a short trip home for a mini vacation to see my wonderful nephews. Needless to say I’ve been busy.

But despite all of that, I had to stop and take a moment to really take in all that’s happened in the last year. Well, really, all that’s happened in the last 7 months. I’ve learned so much, transformed so much, and met so many great people that I am truly astounded. I look around at all that I’ve gotten to experience, and it’s hard now to think back to a year ago when I wasn’t sure if any of this was possible. It’s even harder to think back to a year ago and really believe that I had the courage to move in with complete strangers, in a city that I didn’t know, with no job prospects, working full time as an unpaid intern, half a nation away from my family. To this day, I’m not sure if it was pure insanity. But you know, through all of the struggles (believe me, this year has been tough) I’d do it all over again, because where it’s taken me, and what it’s shown me I’m capable of is beyond invaluable.

I don’t talk about this often, but when I was in middle school, I suffered from severe anxiety. At one point, it was so bad, I couldn’t make it through a day without bursting into tears and calling my dad, just to make sure he was still there. That was one of the toughest times of my life, and it took a long, long time for me to fully recover from that. It was so bad, I even worried that I wouldn’t be able to move away for college. In fact, a lot of people teasingly joked that I would never move that far away from home. (Granted, they had no idea what I’d been through, and how real of a fear that was for me). They simply saw how close I was to my parents, and how much family means to me, and assumed that I would never want to be more  than a few minutes’ drive from seeing my loved ones. And I’ll admit, being away from my family is absolutely the hardest part about living alone in this giant city.

But I am so grateful for my time out here. I’ve grown stronger, and I feel that my bond with my family is deeper because of my time away. I never want to take anything for granted, least of all them. I was blessed with an amazing job experience working with amazing coworkers on a great show–literally a dream come true. I could never have imagined everything I’ve been blessed with in the last year. I don’t know what I did to deserve everything that’s happened, but I am so happy that it has happened.

I don’t know what’s next. Now that the show that I’ve currently been working on is wrapping, I don’t know what the future holds. Perhaps this was the only show I was destined to work on. Perhaps I’ll have a job next week. I don’t know. But one thing I’m sure of, I can handle whatever comes next. And I’m excited to see what’s in store for my life, because I know, no matter what, I’ll make the most of it. And it’ll be fantastic.

-tlc

Everything Is Going To Be Okay

Earlier this morning a friend sent me this graphic about several of my favorite success stories and where they were at 23 years old. Even though others’ failure shouldn’t be a comfort to me, knowing how far all of these people went to change the world (in their own respective ways) is reassuring. So many of us leave college feeling as though we have to have a life plan; as if our time to discover ourselves and build our career is extremely limited, and if we haven’t found ourselves and laid the foundation for our futures by the time we’re 24 or 25 we’ll never find success.

I’m learning very quickly that success isn’t necessarily a number on a paycheck. Success is living a life and lifestyle that makes your happy. Success is putting things out into the world that you are proud of. This doesn’t have to be physical objects, but can be actions, lessons, or the way you treat other people. All of these things have the ability to impact those around you.

So, to keep this post brief, here’s something I’ve learned just from contemplating this graphic:

1) Success means taking risks. If you don’t put yourself out there, if you don’t take a chance on your dreams, you’ll never achieve your goals. As the saying goes, you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take. I know it’s scary to go out on a limb away from any sort of familial or financial safety net, but if you don’t do it, you’ll never get where you want to go.

2) Failure isn’t the end. If this graphic isn’t the perfect example of that, just go read up on all the statistics about Donald Trump filing for bankruptcy. (Not that Trump is a great example of success by any means, but he’s still stinking rich.) The world keeps turning, even after it feels like it should stop. In your darkest moments, this may be a terrible reality, but time does indeed heal all wounds, and someday you will be grateful that life allows us to reinvent ourselves over, and over, and over again.

3) Change is necessary. All of these people made changes in their lives to get where they are today. You can’t expect to have different results if you try the same things over and over again. Sometimes this is really hard to hear, and even harder to put into practice. Especially as a writer, I understand the pain of spending so much time on one project, only to realize afterwards that I’m not getting the results I want with it. Starting over is difficult. Throwing out things you’re attached to so that you can make room for a fresh perspective is challenging. But nobody ever said life was easy.

So there you have it. Everything I gleaned from a simple internet graphic. Too bad most internet graphics spread stereotypes, not positive reinforcement. But that’s another post entirely.

Yours truly,

tlc

What No One Will Tell You About Minimum Wage and Capitalism

I’ve been told too many times to count that I’m naive when it comes to the way I think about the world and the “liberal” views that I hold on the way things work–or at least, the way I think they should work. And I willingly admit that I am a deeply opinionated person who probably holds too many opinions on things she knows very little about. But on the flip side, everyone who’s ever told me I’m naive has just as many opinions on things that they equally know nothing about. I’m no economist, but I am living the hourly grind, and with all the fuss that comes with cities like Los Angeles and Seattle raising the minimum wage, I wanted to share something that I’ve had a lot of time to think about: My thoughts on minimum wage.

Let’s begin with the concept of “deserve” because this buzz word seems to come up a lot in conversations about minimum wage salaries. Let me breeze through this one quickly by saying if you use this as an argument for, or against, raising minimum wage–either way–just go home now. Whether a person “deserves” to be paid more or less is a totally inoperable way of thinking, as not only does everyone have differing opinions as to who deserves what, it’s invalid in its reasoning because everyone “deserves” to live, and part of living is making a living wage. (In this case, the term “living wage” is used to mean a specific income that is required to meet basic human needs.)

Speaking of the “living wage,” did you know that the living wage for Los Angeles is around $13/hr? Do you want to know how much minimum wage in Los Angeles is? $9/hr.

Huh.

Well that seems weird because that would mean that men and women who work full-time minimum wage jobs are not making enough to provide for their own basic needs. Which means that they aren’t making what they “deserve” (just to drill it home for you).

Yep.

But doesn’t that go against the whole idea of “minimum” wage? Like, there’s a minimum wage possible that you can pay your employees because they have to be able to live?

mmmhhmm.

I once took a class in college that studied the history of peace and conflict and the historical causes of certain instances of peace and instances of conflict and war. The class was amazing, and I learned so much about structural and hidden violence, stereotypes, and think tanks. However, something that my teacher told me that has not only stuck with me, but also haunted me since is this: “Capitalism was built on slavery, and survives on slavery. The only difference being that in today’s world, capitalism is functioning on less visible forms of slavery. So, sweatshops, minimum wage, unpaid internships–you know, the things you’re already used to seeing/hearing about, might have experienced yourself. If a company isn’t outsourcing, then they are acquiring source materials for a free or extremely cheap rate to keep costs low and competitive–this usually results in some form of abuse on natural resources, like bottling companies that drain community water reservoirs because they are not strictly regulated.

In other words, the “greed” which “fuels” corporations and businesses to compete and grow or die trying (the philosophy behind Capitalism) also fuels “resources” like poorly-paid sweatshop and field workers in third-world countries and creates reasons as to why minimum wage workers here can’t be paid a proper living wage.

And yes, there are arguments against increasing minimum wage because of the damaging inflation it causes and the fact that sooner rather than later inflation will catch up to the wage (probably before a new minimum wage even goes into effect) which will render the new minimum wage obsolete. It’s a vicious cycle. But it’s a vicious cycle that’s also partly fueled (again) by the desire to make as big a profit margin as possible. Yes, companies raise prices to cover larger staffing expenses. But they also raise prices to keep their profit margins the same, because they can’t accept living on a smaller profit.

Now, this obviously isn’t a perfect argument, as small business often get thrown under the bus with big corporations when they are simply trying to keep their heads above water. I’m not saying that every single business has a huge, greedy profit margin. That’s not always the case. But it does bother me that there are people who work at places like Walmart and still need public assistance, and while that’s going on, others are being ignorant assholes using the whole “deserve” argument I mentioned earlier.

The living wage is different in every city, and so perhaps $15/hr minimum wage doesn’t make sense in every place. But my bet is that with inflation the way it is now, by the time LA hits the year 2020, even $15/hr won’t be livable.

So that’s my two cents. Hate me, call me names for trying to knock capitalism off its stupid pedestal, say I’m a socialist (I’m okay with that), whatever. I don’t care. This is how I view the world.

-tlc

 

 

What You Need To Hear About Fuck-Ups

First may I say, pardon the language, but “mistake” seemed too small, and “disaster” was just dramatic. No, indeed “Fuck-Up” is truly the only way to describe the day at work I’m going to tell you about.

First, have I mentioned that I love my job and the people I work with? I work with the most amazingly professional, kind-hearted, and understanding people. I will truly be sorry when this season ends and everyone starts going their separate ways. In some ways, though, (as I know I’ve said before) that makes it so much worse when I do mess up, because it means I’m disappointing people and causing headaches/frustration at a job that I actually care about. Does that sound terrible? I mean, I’m not a careless person even if I hate the job I’m doing, but it’s just worse when I don’t hate it.

On to my actual story/point.

This week I had the worse day at work I’ve ever had since starting this job, and it was entirely, wholly, completely my fault. It wasn’t a HUGE fuck-up, but a fuck-up none-the-less.

Sidenote: Have you ever had those days where you make one mistake, and then it somehow snowballs into something increasingly terrible until you start to wonder if maybe you’re really Truman and suddenly you’re paranoid that everything around you is somehow a camera that’s recording your every movement? Only me? Okay.

You’re probably really curious to know what this fuck-up was, now that I’ve built it up into this terribly dramatic thing. You ready? Here it is: It somehow escaped my notice that we were down to less than a full box of white, 3-hole punch, copy paper. Anticlimactic?  Maybe for you, but I’ll have you know I print scripts for a living. And I’m not the only one. There’s about fifteen people in our office that could need to print scripts at any moment, meaning the need for 3-hole punch copy paper and lots of it is very, very real.

As the resident person who prints scripts for a living in the office, part of my job is to let the resident office supply orderer (don’t you love our occupational titles?) know when we are low on printer paper. So imagine my regret when I came to work one day this week and discovered that not only were we extremely low on 3-hole punch paper, but that we were almost out on a script printing night. Not just any script-printing night. Shooting script night. The night I have to print twice as many scripts as any other night. Queue Hans Zimmer: *The Fuck-Up begins.*

Since I was the one who somehow missed how incredibly low on paper we were, naturally, I was the one who made the run to Staples to buy some more paper to hold us over until our paper order was due in the next day. I went for two boxes of reams, but Staples was entirely out of boxes of reams. Thank God they still had individual packages of reams, but did you know that a single ream of paper is something like three times the price it would be still in the box? Ridiculous. So I wound up walking away from Staples with about half of the amount of paper I came for, for about twice the price. *The Fuck-Up Continues.*

Things for most of the rest of the day went okay, but I could tell that my Fuck-Up was an added frustration and distraction on top of an already-stressful day. Still, I thought things were starting to calm down and that I might have a peaceful evening of trying to forget about my stupidity, until we got word at the very end of the day that the production schedule was changing, including the episode that we would be shooting for the next week, which meant that a new batch of Table Draft scripts would need to be printed.

On the one day that we were scraping for script paper. FML

At this point I was so fed up with the day that life had thrown me I couldn’t even process sentences that people were saying to me correctly. I must have offered about a dozen times to come in early the next morning to print scripts, to a continuous and unanimous “no” from my bosses because I wouldn’t have a long enough turnover. However, when they kept telling me it was because I was expecting a late night waiting for the current shooting script to be finalized, I–for some reason I can’t even explain other than that at that point my brain had just given up for the day–thought they meant that I would be having a long day the next day (a non-printing day and typically my early night). Just the fail on top the Fuck-Up cake, I suppose.

But why am I telling you all of this? Is it because I want your pity? Your sympathy? Is it because I like being a potty-mouth on the internet where everything is forever? Heaven’s sake, no. I’m telling you all of this because there is something that I think every twenty-something needs to hear about Fuck-Ups that I just learned from this very-first fuck-up at my very-first real, I-care-about-this job. What I think you need to hear is this:

Fucking-Up is nothing if you put your big kid pants on, patch-up the problem as best you can, and move on. Feeling sorry for yourself, disrupting work flow, and/or not learning from your mistakes and making changes to ensure they don’t happen again are the real fuck-ups.

When I came into work and found out the situation, I accepted responsibility right away. I didn’t try to argue, I didn’t blame someone else, I didn’t make an excuse as to why it happened. I made note of the issue and the immediate solution (running to Staples for more paper) and recognized that the best thing I could do was to make sure that I didn’t cause anymore disruption to the workflow, and to make sure that things continued as smoothly as possible despite my fuck-up. I did my best to make myself as available and helpful as possible to ease any frustration my fuck-up caused. I made sure the morning PAs knew how to print the Table Draft scripts properly, I printed the shooting draft scripts, prepped the paper as best I could for the morning print, and went home. The next day, I left any mopey, sorry-for-myself feelings at home, and came in to work with a bright attitude. I made sure I had a solution to prevent making the same fuck-up twice, and I did my best to be on-top of things and as helpful as possible.

And you know what? It was a good day.

Fuck-ups happen. Deal with it, learn from it, and move on.

Here’s to hoping that it never, ever happens again, though.

-tlc

 

 

Learning To Be An Adult In The Not-So-Great-Ways

I’m a perfectionist. It’s a quality that comes with both good and bad aspects. On the one hand, I do my job and I do it well, no matter what. On the other hand, anytime I fall behind for reasons out of my control, I beat myself up for it. I can be moody, on the inside of course–because being anything other than personable to everyone is unacceptable–and being moody on the inside sucks. Because as much as you hate people who shove their emotions and bad attitudes on you (otherwise known as “bitchy” people), let’s face it: if you don’t get those feelings out, they don’t go away, they just make you crazy.

So being a perfectionist makes me a little crazy, and the worse part is that the only way to deal with being a little less crazy is by becoming more of a perfectionist and figuring out ways to solve whatever issue is making you crazy. Double-edged sword, Hamster Wheel, Bottomless Pit of Hell–whatever you want to call it, being a perfectionist makes for a rough life.

So now that you know this about me, I’m sure you can understand how crazy it makes me that I can’t seem to hear what people are saying when they call me on my phone at work. It’s starting to make me doubt my hearing. Should I go to a doctor? Is it my phone? Is it a little bit of both? If yes to the first question and last question, then where should I go for an appointment? A Primary Care Doc? An Audiologist? I don’t even have a doctor out here in LA yet. Where should I go for that?  And if it’s not me, how do I fix my phone? Or, how do I make sure to get people’s names right without asking them a thousand times, or spending five minutes having them spell their name for me? Guys, I just want to be a writer. Can’t we all go home now, and I’ll e-mail you later?

There’s a lot of great and exciting things that come with being an adult out of college. You finally get your own apartment (probably with roommates, but hey, at least you can buy alcohol and have friends over now).  You get a paycheck that (hopefully!) amounts to more than covering the cost of a weekend of Taco Bell dinners. You get to call more of the shots on what you do with your life, and when you do it. It’s amazing.

But then your body starts getting old, even though you’re only in your 20’s and you start wondering what the hell is wrong? And pretty soon you have to find a dentist, and a doctor, and you’re paying a monthly gym membership fee because you realize that pizza and wine for dinner every night of the week probably has something to do with why you feel like crap all the time and you have to buy bigger pairs of jeans. You guys, adulthood is not fun. Adulthood is a freaking nightmare.

Adulthood is forcing yourself to do all of those things you avoided as a kid, like calling strangers, doing the dishes, going to the doctor, doing your laundry, planning trips, and making your bed, because it’s something that has to be done, and no one else is going to do it. Adulthood is being bored and being too tired to do anything about it. Adulthood is knowing there are all these problems in the world, and knowing how small you are because you’ll never be able to fix all of them.

Maybe the reason we call it “Adulthood” is because being an adult is almost as tough as living in the “hood”–metaphorically speaking. Or maybe that’s way too much of a stretch. I don’t know, but either way, all I want to do is take a nap.

-tlc

What I’ve Been Up To

In the last few weeks, my life has been crazy, so as I attempt to get ahead on these posts again (I had the whole day off and I’ve spent most of it watching TV, so I guess it’s my own fault I haven’t been more proactive) I just thought I would very quickly catch you up on my life right now. So without further introduction (and sadly, zero comedic whimsies because TIME!!) here are five things that have happened in the last month:

 

#1: I got a job! I repeat: I GOT A JOB. Let the gods of employment rejoice because I GOT A JOB. Drinks on me! (Just kidding because I’m still poor and LA is still expensive. If you want to invite me out to celebrate I’ll be brown-bagging it, as per-usual.)

 

#2: The job I was working before getting a JOB (yeah, it’s that amazing) that I guess you would technically consider employment and was paying me a fair dime but I didn’t announce to anyone because it was semi-short term and also reality TV (nothing wrong with that, I just would like to work more in scripted) pretty much consumed my life day and night. 12 hour days, 5 days a week is hard.

 

#3: My car died and was resurrected. I almost had to pay $1800 to get it fixed because the Cadillac converter went out in it. Shout out to Ramy, the dealership Service Rep, who found the federal warranty that covered most of the repair costs. Yeah!

 

Also, I don’t know a single thing about cars, but why in the world does my car need a Cadillac converter? I don’t even like Cadillacs.

 

#4: I started vlogging again. I’m trying desperately to not fall into the abyss of off-again, on-again  posting, so we’ll see how well this twice-a-month thing goes. I will also attempt to set this site up in the upcoming months so that I have a page that links straight to my Youtube channel, but until then, you can check the videos out here.

 

#5: And finally, I just spent like an hour giving my roommate a crash-course in comedic musicians like Ylvis, Flight of the Conchords, and The Lonely Island. You’re welcome, Meaghan.

 

-tlc

There’s No Place Like–SoCal?

How many times must I sound like a broken record before I start getting more consistent about updating posts here?  Sheesh, you’d think I’d moved halfway across the country or something.

Oh, wait.

Yes, it did indeed happen, yes it was just as terrifying as I thought it would be, and yes, I cried in front of strangers. Bawled, actually. Complete hysterics.

But, I’m better now, the sun is always shining, and as I like to say: I’m here, I’m not queer, and I’m ready to mingle. (Alright, I don’t actually like to say that, but when you don’t have a catchphrase…) And by mingling, no, I’m not looking to jump into the dating scene–is there one? What do people mean when they say, “dating scene”? Sheesh, it’s like we live in a freaking movie (p.s. if you know where the dating scene is, I’m having trouble finding it. SOS)–though, if Henry Cavill needs a date to the next awards show, I won’t say no. What I mean is, I’m ready to meet people and make some friends. Actually, I need to meet people and make some friends. Last night I got angry at my wall for ignoring my sorrows.

Just kidding.

Or am I?

But really. You would not BELIEVE how difficult it is to find groups of like-minded people. I’ve been searching for three weeks and I’m still struggling to find a Young Adults group to join. Would you believe that? 2nd largest city in America and nobody hangs out in organized clusters. It’s like Universities operate on some structured system to help you meet people or something…nah.  So, if you live in LA, and you want to hang out, give me a ring. No, not my phone–I’m not giving that out online, fool. A literal ring. Diamonds are a girl’s best friend, after all.

Okay, that last joke wasn’t funny. I don’t care.

For those of you out there who are still reading this for assurance that the transition from school to the real world can be survivable, don’t worry, I got your back. I have a lot I want to tell you on that subject, but for fear of making this post a monster to read, I’m going to write that into a separate post, just for you, my lovelies.

I also want to tell you all about my perception of Los Angeles since getting here.  Like my reasoning for the above, be looking for that in a separate post.

Don’t worry, they will both be coming. I’ve decided I will be updating my blog every Thursday.  Get excited.

Until then, just know that I am safe, if still a little emotionally insecure about the state of my life. But the weather is better than wherever you are (not to be snotty, but I can guarantee it is) and I’ve already had two celebrity sightings, plus I’m currently working in an industry that, until now, I’d only ever dreamed about. Oh, and I live ten minutes from the beach.

If don’t hate me enough to stop reading my blog, then I’ll see you next week for another edition of let’s-see-how-much-I-can-brag.

Yours truly,

tlc

The Thing About Texas

So it’s been exactly two months since I first arrived in San Antonio, TX, and, like my bug-bite-free skin, my blogging seemed to disappear this summer. Man, and I was doing so well with the weekly posts! Guess that happens when your job is your life seemingly 24/7. Granted, I could’ve probably found the time to blog, but we can’t all be Wonder Woman.

I do have some things to share about San Antonio, though–and more broadly, Texas.  I could type you up some long blog post detailing exactly my experiences and what not, but let’s face it: I’m too lazy to do that, and you probably equally don’t want to read that. So, instead, I thought I’d make a nice little list for you all.

First, though, I want to make note that for a first job–even though it was only a temporary gig from the get-go–I had a lot of fun. It was a really good experience to work in a new city that I had never been to, and a state that I was not really familiar with. It gives me hope for my upcoming venture into the wild land out west. So, without further ado, The Things About Texas that I discovered during my time in San Antonio:

1) Texas is full of terrible drivers. I don’t care what you say about Los Angeles, New York, Boston, or Chicago–San Antonio has the WORST drivers in America. I don’t even understand it, because you would assume that, being in Texas where nearly everyone has to drive in order to get anywhere, everyone would have plenty of experience driving and therefore plenty of common sense while driving. This seemingly logical assumption is completely false. I don’t know if it’s the water, or simply the way Texans evolved from riding horses, but the drivers are complete idiots. Perfectly nice people outside of their vehicles, but complete idiots once they get behind the wheel. (Sorry San Antonio friends. Some of you have proven yourselves capable drivers, but the majority rules here.)

2) This brings me to my next point, which is that Texas traffic is HORRIBLE.  So it’s not bumper-to-bumper 30 mph or slower traffic during awfully long rush hours like LA, but in LA’s defense, at least there’s an expected routine. In Texas, you can be driving down the road at 3pm on a Sunday and find yourself suddenly in the middle of nerve-wracking bumper-to-bumper traffic for the next forty minutes (this happened to me). And I-35 in Austin is just Hell on Earth. Seriously, someone please get some monorails in these towns or something. Maybe a public metro of helicopters–really, anything else would suffice the cruel and unusual punishment that is Texan roadways.

3) Everything IS bigger in Texas, including the mosquitoes. Thank God vampires aren’t real because I swear, the way mosquitoes love me, I’d last about five seconds in a Vamp world. I went through FOUR cans of bug spray (on my own!) this summer. I was layering the stuff on three times a day (yes, I probably have some weird cancer now) and still getting bug bites the size of quarters.  QUARTERS! Do you know how uncomfortable that is when you’re laying in bed at night and you’re trying to fall asleep?

4) If you ever want to be able to buy a margarita anywhere else in the country and not feel like you just wasted $10, don’t drink in Texas. If there’s one thing Texas has right, it’s the tequila. The first two or three you try will make you feel like you’ve just had alcohol for the first time in your life, but after that, everything else will taste like cheap sugar water. Texas knows how to drink.

5) Southern hospitality makes itself subtle in its Texan manners.  Granted, my experience with Southern hospitality is limited to ten days I spent in Alabama two years ago, but man, did they lay it on thick there! Midwest manners are much more subtle, but also a bit more honest, if you ask me.  (Which, btw, apparently it’s a thing that some people believe Kansas is technically Southern and not Midwest. Woah! Mind blown.) In Texas, however, just like the geography, the southern hospitality meets midwest manners. You’ll often find that Texans are extremely generous and welcoming, but they also tend to be a bit more genuine than what I would consider true southern hospitality. So, ten brownie points to Texas, kind sirs and madams.

6) San Antonio is a Catholic haven. I lived on Trinity University’s campus, close to downtown, but still a drive (you have to drive literally every where). Within short commuting distance was four cathedrals and a couple churches. Not to mention the ruins of the (I believe it’s six) missions that include the famous Alamo.  Oh, and they still do services at the San Jose mission ruins. Talk about never letting tradition die. However, to any Catholics who have ever found themselves in the heart of the Bible belt and felt awkward because there’s literally a protestant church on every corner, but the only Catholic church is on the other side of town and you’re given judging stares for asking how to get there, San Antonio is a true gem. It’s most certainly a religious cultural opportunity.

7) TEXAS HEAT IS NOT DRY. In the months leading up to my leaving for Texas, all I kept hearing was, “The heat is horrible there, but at least it’s a dry heat, so it doesn’t feel as bad as it does here.” Dry heat this, dry heat that. I had high hopes, Texas, and you failed me, miserably. San Antonio was so humid, I swear it was more humid than Orlando, FL, which is really saying something–I think–because Florida is the most claustrophobicly humid place I have ever visited.  Why? Why does Texas nature get such a sadistic kick out of making me miserable??

8) Texas goes on forever.  On my drive home, my goal was simply to make it out of Texas that first day.  I had such an adrenaline high from making it across the Texas border that I didn’t even keep track of time and I was within an hour of home before I even looked at the clock and went, “Oh. I’ve been driving for nearly twelve hours now.” Seriously, Texas is so big.

9) Texans really like to point out the fact that they were once a country.  Though, I’m not sure the logic behind this, because they are no longer their own country, so really they’re only point out and bragging about their own failure…Sometimes, I think logic is suppressed by all of that state pride they have.

10) Texans are very proud of their state, in a strange way.  Seriously, I can’t wrap my mind around it.  The state is big, bulky, hot, and full of bad drivers. What seems like 3/4’s of the state is nothing but desert prairie and cacti, and their state schools have terribly ugly colors (Seriously, orange doesn’t look good on anybody [Sorry Austin]). Yet they will defend their state til the die, fly the state flag at the same height as the USA flag (they can do that, I guess) and brag about any facts they think are good about their state to anyone who will listen. (The favorite as far as I’ve found is that Beyoncé is from Houston.)

11) Texas is a lot of fun.  There’s lots to do, lots of people to meet (and try to avoid on the road) and a whole ‘lotta history. So, despite how negative this list–or maybe I should call it a vent session–is, Texas is actually a pretty cool place to visit. Note, I said visit. I would never, EVER live there.

So, I’m not sure if Davy Crockett knew exactly what he was saying when he wrote this line, but either way he was condemning himself to his death–for better or worse than hell, we may never know. (But probably better. I don’t think Texas is as bad as hell).

Davy Crockett funny

 

Be on the lookout, because in the upcoming weeks I will start my new journey out west to LA, and I plan to be blogging about it madly. Expect weekly updates on a set weekday that I just haven’t decided on yet.

Yours truly,

tlc