getting back to where i once belonged

Getting Back To Where I Once Belonged

I stepped off the plane in Fort Lauderdale International Airport getting back home to South Florida.  It had been four and a half months since I had left with my backpack for places unknown.  It’s hot, the humidity on the tar mack is brutal even at ten in the evening.  I had spent the past seven years prior to leaving for Europe in Chicago so it’s been a long time since I had been used to the humidity of my hometown.

It took a total of eighteen hours of traveling before getting back and I definitely was completely wrecked at this point.  My plans hadn’t completely worked out in Berlin.  However other things I didn’t expect to happen did, so the world evened things out in the end.

Getting back to my parents home and preparing myself to stay there for a prolonged period of time was a decision that I was fairly hesitant about.  I am very close with my family, but I haven’t lived under their room for almost eight years, so needless to say it would be something I’d have to get used to.  Thankfully my parents are just about the coolest people in the world, so it makes things easier.  And they live on the water so shiiiiiiiiiit.

It’s also a great place to kind of close yourself off and write.  I’ve come to call it “La La Land”.  As close as they may be to nightlife and the bustle of Federal Highway, it feels like a million miles away.  And since getting off the ground would take a full time effort, I took these coming months as the time to build the foundation for it all before I head back out once more.

So like most writers struggling to keep any type of full time job other then their self imposed job of writer, watching the well dry up and no work coming your way.  Sick of bending to the will of what is normal and refusing to inject oneself into the grind of big box retail.

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