When I was on the hilltop, I couldn't figure out what I wanted to look at. The lightning was waning in the distance, on the way out. On the other western side, the lights of Denver and company still twinkled like a layer of stars stripped from space and left on the ground to wrap around mountains, sleep in-between hills, harbor people who were just getting up at this hour, breaking up, making huge choices that I'd never know about, or just simply sleeping. I stood there, Appleseed Cast droning in the background, and had some time to just be quiet for a while.
A guy pulled up next to me as I was switching CDs for the drive home and asked "YA'LL RIGHT?"
"Yep. Just came up to watch the lightning."
"WELL, Y'BE COOL! HAVE A GOOD NAGHT!"
Coming back from Italy, Colorado does seem to have more of a cowboy-hat wearing, chew-spitting image than I remebered previously. And here I am, Johnny White Boy, and I find myself comfortable here. Part of me will always be with this state, I realize. It's not that I directly rebelled against this place. I have nothing against it, but I thought I would always enjoy a more "happening" place like a city. San Fransisco or something similar. But I would like if I said I didn't like the winding stretches of road, the deer you can sometimes see leaping between the road, the scheduled thunderstorms that come rolling in from the Rockies at about 3:00 every summer afternoon.
It's 2:00 in the morning and I need to get to sleep. My first day as a waiter starts tomorrow, and while there's no telling how long the shift would be, I'd like to at least be mildly awake so that I can get the hang of it. I'm slightly nervous, moreso excited because I think I'll dig this job. At least, I hope so. heh.
I miss my friends from Italy, and hell, I miss my friends from here, too. Everyone is either taking summer courses or living in Boulder (or, in some special circumstances, Australia), so I'm somewhat stuck in intense suburbia. I suppose this means I can focus more on the job.
You know, who cares about any of this? Would you rather read about how I almost hit a cat with my car today? My wild flings with terror at 4,500 feet? Me vs. a rival ninja clan? Bastards. All of you.
love,
Jared