From a Flying J (partially)

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6 February 2012 (still): DC Exile Day 13 (still)

Yes. Two posts in one day. Primarily because I was up until about 3 a.m. (MST) and up again around 10 a.m.

Nearly two weeks GF and I have been back in Utah, wondering what will happen next.

Tomorrow (or perhaps Wednesday) begins the true search for jobs.

I was awake last night thinking of jokes and bits and to-do list items and conversations.

Only nine more days until I leave Facebook. Who knows how that will go? It shouldn’t be a big deal, but it feels like it is. More on that in a later post. I promise.

So, for now, please enjoy this picture.

View from Flying J (Tooele Lake Point, UT)

I’d like to absolve the puzzle

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6 February 2012: DC Exile Day 13

Thirteen days have passed since GF and I departed DC for her parents’ basement in Ogden, UT. In about half that time, we have done pretty much everything in Utah we wished to do. I saw most of my friends (I still have one more to see), we ate some good food in Salt Lake City, we watched television and I have worn pajamas 85 percent of my waking hours.

I keep trying to write blogs while here, but I get caught up in reading and sitting and talking and staring into the atmosphere and generally being lazy, but not lazy like sitting around drooling and watching mindless television – lazy like doing things other than writing a blog.

Sometimes, writing is one of the more difficult tasks for me. How can I possibly put down all my thoughts? They don’t stop. They don’t break. There are no natural pauses like a conversation or a trial with a court reporter tap-tap tapping the notes of the mostly pre-destined judicial rigmarole.

So, I frequently end up with gaps between blog postings like unfinished pieces of sidewalk in which city planners and city workers realized it would probably just take way too much time to keep building all the way to the next block because then they would have to keep building all the way to the city limits. And what would happen if they reached the city limits and dared to cross into the next city because they still had cement and desire and the sun wasn’t quite low enough in the sky to warrant shuffling back home for potatoes and fish sticks? Would their internal drive force them to build sidewalk forever, covering the entire world like some productive Sisyphus?

I’m frequently afraid of saying too much. That if I ever put out anything creative, I won’t be able to stop and I’ll have to keep going and it will consume my life and my obsessive tendencies will prevent me from ever stopping to say “hello” to anyone again until I have to say hello to get stories for the next thing I want to write.

I just used the “spell check” feature. The dialog box informed me “No writing errors were found.” But isn’t going without writing when your every instinct is to write an error? Perhaps it is, but the semi-sentient internet is attempting to absolve me.

I’ll take what absolution I can get.

A little West and relaxation

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26 January 2012

The sky is overcast and dull and snow is covering the entire ground. No, winter did not finally come to Northern Virginia. I’m sitting in a house in Ogden, Utah. How did I get here? You, David Byrne and I aren’t the only ones asking that same question.

As you, dear reader, know full well, I lived the last 18 months in Arlington, VA, just over the bridge from Washington, DC. During that time, I was working in a reproductive rights nonprofit covering the Commonwealth of Virginia.

As of January 13, 2012, my employment ended and I embarked on the next stage of my life – a stage that is currently nebulous and ill defined, but surprisingly not stressful.

GF and I began the transition into this new phase by selling all our furniture on Craigslist (where we met many interesting, yet dully un-sketchy characters), donating items to Goodwill and the local library and dealing with the various other interminable minutiae of moving.

Fortunately, with a three-month notice in to our employers, we had plenty of time to fit together the puzzle of relocating.

So, on January 13, 2012, I found myself unemployed with no employment prospects and no solid idea of where I would be within the next three months.

That is how GF and I ended up back in Utah (where I never thought I would return) living with her kind and generous parents in Ogden. Enough about us, let’s talk about me.

I was surprised how much I missed living in the West while back east. Looking out at the mountains and feeling the stresses of a fast pace dissipate remind me why I connected so much with Colorado and Utah. Speaking of Colorado, previous discussions set my sites on Denver as my next life location. As I am quickly learning with all decisions I declare, I must add the always-implied caveat, “We shall see.”

For now, I have mounting credit debt, no job, no job prospects, no clear sense of direction and no permanent home.

I have never felt more alive and free than at this exact moment.

Just over 18 months ago, I stood on the same porch I see to my right and talked to my best friend, JHP, about taking charge of my life and moving from Utah to find what is next for me. Now, I return to the porch with the knowledge and skills I acquired in DC and Virginia, fully seeing what it means to take charge of my life. It means accepting that my life can have no set pattern. That my life is my own and it will most likely not look like anyone else’s and will not fit into a certain mold.

Persons have asked me what I would like to do now that I am moving. The only response I can give is that I want to have a freelance lifestyle. I want to write songs, sitcoms, sketches and jokes and perform. I want the occasional odd job to help pay for my lifestyle. We’ll see what happens.

On a separate note, I realize I was a bit too harsh in my critiques of Utah while I lived here. Being back, I can see the allure of the place. Yes, I strongly disagree with the monolithic control of the Mormon Church and find the “alternative” scene lacking overall, but there is an appeal. As we drove in from the airport this past Tuesday, I realized that Salt Lake City (and much of Utah) is an isolated community, where you can ignore the outside world and build your own enclave. You can watch one of the worst (but my favorite) basketball teams, drink watered-down beer, eat surprisingly high-caliber food (some of the best in the country), see some incredible touring acts (like Centro-Matic, My Brightest Diamond, Built to Spill and Devotchka) and dig the outdoors. Yes, it was not for me and I cannot live here at this point in my life, but I can see the appeal, especially if you own a Subaru and like to ski.

I sit here, snow outside and warm coffee inside, with the sound of a hair dryer blowing in the background, content and anxious, completely free and unafraid. (I am referring, of course, to how I feel, not how the hair dryer feels. I cannot begin to speak for it.)

I have big plans for Cone Alone (my other blog), The Joseph Richards Show (my semi-regular podcast), Joey Cougar & The Starfish (my band) and JosephPatrickRichards.com in this coming year.

I will see more of my dreams come true before those damned Mayans destroy most of the planet and enslave all survivors.

God isn’t that Boron

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5 January 2012

Since departing from my Christian beliefs, I have been fascinated by the sometimes vitriolic and blustering debate between science and religion. Part of my fascination is simply the mental picture of God fighting Stephen Hawking, pastors fighting scientists and church-goers fighting students.

But I also appreciate that science enjoys disproving itself and has a seemingly inherent disdain of immutability.

I’ve been looking so long, at this picture of loo

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22 October 2011

Time passes and the distance between us grows.

How I’ve missed you all. As you know, the bulk of my time has been involved in work and will continue to be so for a couple more weeks.

So, here is a break, a breather. A chance to tell you a little bit about what has been happening.

GF and I discovered a miniature golf course (putt-putt) near a suburban shopping center. The putt-putt course was within an establishment also containing a driving range. (Who knew stoves could get licenses?*) I have never been to such a place before. I found it quite odd. Some patrons were carrying buckets containing ice and Corona beers and some patrons were sitting in a club house structure watching sporting events at a high volume (decibel-wise, not quantity-wise).

During our putt-putt adventure, GF scored a hole in one! Our trip included a visit to Johnny Rockets restaurant, in which I felt bad for the employees, all of whom had to dress as if they actually worked in a diner from the 1950s. Interesting to note- There was a painting on the wall of kids eating something from the restaurant. The kids were wearing baseball uniforms. One of the kids was African American, even though I doubt he would have been welcome at the diner in the 1950s. Thanks Johnny Rockets for erasing the past.

We ended the day by going to Macy’s. The Macy’s was creepy. Here is the bathroom, which was fine.

Bathroom

Stay tuned for an upcoming post in which I describe two different dancing experiences.

*Alternate joke A- Who knew an open region in which animals can graze could get licenses? Alternate joke B- Who knew a series of things in a line (especially mountains) could get licenses?