mychai's Diaryland Diary

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Back in Picayune for good. Until the end of May, at least.

1 In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. And that was good.
2 And God created the newts, and toads, and emus, and aligators, and annoying little bastards like mosquitos and ticks.
3 And in good time, God created much of the beautiful world, taking extra time to mold clay as to look like dinosaur bones when it hardened just to have a good laugh at the humans once they found his Arts and Crafts projects.
4 And speaking of humans, God went ahead and made a man, then ripped out one of his ribs and made a woman out of said rib. The man and woman fell in love, then -- to again get a good laugh -- he separated the man and woman as far apart as he could.
5 At around the end of the sixth day, the sun was setting -- did I mention he created the sun? No? Well, he did -- and God realized he had a little bit of land left to create. But he ran out of ideas.
6 So, to do a quick fix, God said, "Let there be a bunch of trees and not much else. We'll call it 'Alabama.'"
7 And it was so, and it was good.

Look at me. Yesterday I said I don't talk about religion, and here I am quoting from the "Gospel of JP."

That's the conundrum part. I make rules and break them. I do it every day. Don't mind me. Especially when I have a lot on my mind.

A few months ago, I had a dream that I was walking down one of Picayune's main streets holding all of my bags and clothes. My mom was walking along with me. I was crying. She asked why I was so upset, and I said it was because I missed my home.

"But you are home," she said. That was when I woke up, but I knew what I would have said. Picayune is no longer my home. It's not where I feel comfortable. It's not where people and friends I love live, other than my family.

When I finally pulled into Picayune late this evening with all of my bags and clothes, I felt this overwhelming wave of sadness and -- the most worst -- loneliness.

I don't have a bar here to go where I feel like people enjoy my presence. Hell... Picayune doesn't even serve alcohol. In fact, the whole county's dry.

I know, huh?!?

So what am I to do? I'll just sit around on my doofus. I'll probably work on my dad's farm every day since I am broke and can't do anything else. I have to go find an Air Force recruiter who will take me on and fight for my cause.

And I have to find a way to get back to Columbia since the cause will most likely be lost. In fact, I think I will probably fly up there on May 22 or 23, if someone wants to come get me.

Hint, hint.

So, I'm at my mom's house.

I love my beautiful mom to death, but sometimes she just doesn't have a clue. She, for some reason, thought I was coming into town late this week. So, my room wasn't set up, Daisy the Dog wasn't washed and groomed, and there is no food in the house.

That's ok, though. We got everything situated quickly, and Daisy the Dog is going to the beauty parlor on Wednesday.

The weird thing is that, between my last visit in December and now, my grandfather moved out of his home in Panama City and into another one that wouldn't hold all of his furniture. A good deal of the furniture is now in my room (which is usually a junk room.) So, now my room smells like my dead grandmother's house. I'm not looking forward to the dreams these smells bring.

Ok. I'm just rambling.

If you knew how tired I was, you'd be scolding me and making me go straight to sleep.

I'll catch yall tomorrow, yo.

11:49 p.m. - Mon., Apr. 28, 2003

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