Well, i guess after more than seven months out here, it's ok to admit what has been rolling around in my head for quite some time now. I miss HOME. California and more specifically, San Francisco. my mother, who has been spending the last several years in an army-enforced exile outside birmingham, alabama, was recently asked to explain why my parents didn't plan to stick around in alabama after my father's current tour. she replied simply, "it's not california." this is not to say that there aren't things that my parents enjoy about the South (the Gulf Coast comes to mind), much like Chicago has it's bright spots for me. but the Midwest isn't California and Chicago isn't San Francisco.

now, you must be thinking "wow, what an extraordinary grasp of the obvious." but, although it might sound like one, my mom's explanation wasn't a value judgement and neither is my own observation about my current digs. naively, i assumed that culture shock was the stuff of emigres from lesser-developed countries or college-age years abroad, not a simple relocation within the U S of A. well, i was wrong. and i picked a particularly bad time to be wrong. things don't make sense here, and in a time when we are all struggling to find our place in a new reality, familiarity with my context would bring significant comfort.

I miss the stench of stale urine and patchouli on the 7 Haight. I miss carne asada quesadillas at LRico. I miss the exasperating wait for the 24 Divis at market st and the rush of exhiliration when it actually emerges from the mists high above the Castro.

I miss catching up with Megan at Squat and Gobble. I miss not being able to find a table at Cafe Whore. I miss the guy with the bowl cut and persistant Madonna at Sparky's. I miss the crowd and construction at Fourth and Market.

I miss the trudge up one-half block to Page St digs.

I miss taking the back stairs up to Coit Tower. I miss the bridge from the clocktower. I miss the dot-communists at South Park. I miss pepperoni and black olive slices at Bus Stop. I miss second-chance cinema at the Red Vic. I miss the Park.

I miss the progressive antics of the Board of Supervisors. I miss Willie Brown's hats. I miss Tom Ammiano's squeak. I miss the Guardian's PG&E conspiracies. I miss sunday afternoons at the EndUp.

I miss Rescue Muni. I miss reading the Weekly from back to front (savage love, then horoscopes, then reviews, then the articles, if the mood strikes me). I miss spending endless hours and dollars cruising the used bins at amoeba. the familiar, the comfortable, the routine, the relaxing. i haven't been able to relax in months.

I understand waiting in the pouring rain for a bus that pulls up past the stop to let people off, but won't let anyone on. What i don't understand is huddling on a platform in sub-zero wind chills for the next train.

I understand a debate over extending sex-change benefits to city employees. What i don't understand are three republican gubenatorial candidates focusing exclusively on abortion in their television advertisements.

I understand politically adventageous mayoral appointments to the board of supervisors. what i don't understand is cronyism, corruption, organized crime and legalized gambling in the suburbs.

I understand diennial representational growth amid the politics of plenty. with the 2000 census, california's house delegation grew from 52 to 53 seats. What i don't understand is diennial representational loss amid the politics of scarcity, as all five old northwest states, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Michigan and Wisconsin lost a seat for the 108th Congress.

what's my point, you ask? it's a simple as I can't tell the weather by looking outside anymore. i figured the names would change but the song would remain the same. not so, boys and girls, not so. everything seems to defy my expectations, including working. what you may not know is that i have not had a job interview since Sept 11. well, that isn't completely true, if you count interviews for two separate jobs at a local interior design school where i had temped for six weeks earlier in the year. i wasn't offered either of these positions, as i was "overqualified", a somewhat heart-breaking turn of phrase when you don't have permanent employment.

So, i have been temping long-term at a publishing company (don't get too excited...bowling and billiards magazines) where i am part-time receptionist, part-time data entry clerk, full-time postal/package technologist (read mailroom clerk...i'm hoping to receive my AA in mailroom technologies any day now..look out, resume!). though this does afford me ample time and inclination to ruminate about life, the universe and everything for my own online diary, it certainly does not provide the financial security or the connectedness to place that i crave. the security and connectedness that breeds familiarity, comfort, routine, relaxation.

none of this is to say that California or San Francisco is perfect, nor does it negate any of the reasons that i left. most of all i guess i miss the clarity. i've been feeling particularly fuzzy the last couple of days, like i needed to screw off my scalp and wipe my brain down with a moist towelette. I took an enormous chance, coming out here without a job, or friends, or prospects, just a wing and a prayer. i'm still waiting for chicago to take a chance on me.

on a related note, i saw the new wendy's commercial last night with flying burgers and such. i miss dave.

-huck