call the waaambulance, i have a waaamburger and some french cries.

"Reality" TV shows about New Jersey are all the rage right now. Of course there is the phenomenon of Jersey Shore, there's Cake Boss about some mafioso-esque bakers, and today (while indulging in some joyfully mindless America's Next Top Model reruns) I kept seeing commercials for Jersey Couture, which looks simply terrible.

Of course, anyone who knows anything about New Jersey knows that the only real "reality" show about NJ is not reality at all, but is in fact The Sopranos. But I digress.

For real, though, I am a bit notorious in Santa Fe for being New Jersey's most rabid fan. I love this state. I loved growing up in this state. I still call New Jersey "home." It's the best state in the union. America's best-kept secret. All those things.

So why is it so hard to be here?

I'm not talking the whole "oh gosh gee I actually got more used to Santa Fe than I thought!" or anything like that. (Though, the first night that I arrived home, I was following my dad to a diner and went to land a high-speed merge that I grew up with... and nearly got run off an overpass, slammed my car into the curb and ended up stopped dead in traffic for a minute or so. NJ driving fail... I bet they were all glaring at my New Mexico plates while they edged their Beemers around me.) This is a different kind of hard.

A while ago, I accepted that nothing happens by accident and that there is a reason for everything that has gone "wrong" in my life. When Patrick had to go back to Tennessee and call off our road trip, I was upset, sure - but I knew that there was a reason it was happening. I knew it would show itself in time.

I resolved to come home here to New Jersey for a while in order to relax, be unemployed, do some writing, relax, sleep, relax and relax. I was looking forward to it.

So why is it that I applied for four jobs tonight?

We are each the architect of our own destiny, but I can't seem to get my buildings to look like the blueprints. I wanted to live in the moment and be introspective, but all I can do is think about the future and the outward influences that will shape my next move. I wanted to take it easy, but I'm getting swept back into the current of being the stressball that I have been for the last forever-many-years. I have spent 10 years trying to lose weight and resolved to do so this summer (my excuse was always, "I'm too tired after work to go to the gym!"... well, what about when I don't have work?), but my grand kick-off has been foiled by a broken toe and, if the last decade is any indication, this time around may not go so well. It's hard to stay positive when you've been dealing with it for almost half your life.

So here I am. I'm not hungry, but I want to eat. I don't want to work, but I am applying for jobs. I want to take time to figure out what I am doing next, but I already have my heart set on moving to Knoxville. I want to travel a bit more and see a few more friends this summer, but I don't want to even begin to think about where the money to do so would come from. I just want to go to sleep, but I'm writing a stupid blog entry.

Maybe that's an indication that I should shut the hell up and go to bed.

It rained all day today - rain like I haven't seen in years. I missed rain. I missed water. I should go see the ocean. I should let the faucet run and not worry about it.

contemplating my next move

Patrick and his dad are fishing back in the woods, and I’m sitting at the dead-end of River Bend Road in Bristol. There’s a house here that has an unsecured wireless network. And I didn’t connect! Just don’t feel like it. How’s that for weird?

I fancy myself a pretty adaptable person. When I moved to New Mexico at age 18, I was miserable for a few years until I found the right niche and found my footing in the community, but I made it. Now it may be time for me to leave Santa Fe, and I wonder if I will adapt to wherever I go next.

Patrick has not outright asked me to move to Knoxville, but when I offered to do so, he didn’t object. It certainly is different from Santa Fe – and I may like it better, in a weird way. People here don’t seem as self-absorbed as they are in Santa Fe. People move slower but they do know how to move fast – they just choose not to. In Santa Fe, when people move slow, it’s because they have no idea how to function like a normal human being. City Different, indeed.

But I do love Santa Fe. I do love Madrid. I love the art and the landscape and the creative people and the through-and-through acceptance of just about everyone.

That would be my main fear moving out here. I don’t just lean to the left – I’m pretty much running in that direction. And obviously, people here are not that way. I have heard good things about Knoxville as a metropolitan area, as far as being hip and tolerant is concerned, but I’m not holding my breath. Could I live in the South? Could I handle it?

There is only one way to find out. That’s the bottom line here; there is only one way to find out and if I don’t find out I will always wonder.