Pit Bulls, Blinkers, and Saying Good Bye

I recently visited Houston to say good-bye to my mom and brothers (and drop off a bunch of stuff that won’t fit in my truck). Houston is a great city, for a lot of reasons, there’s the 59 Diner, pit bulls, Starr Pizza, LOTS of casual camouflage, the Water Wall, more pit bulls, gorgeous green parks, the Texans, the unexpected excitement of people driving on the freeway at over 70 mph and NO ONE using a blinker, and…is that a Boxer?

Nope, pit bull.

It’s not easy saying bye and putting distance between me and my family, but while sitting in the car with my mom, weaving through the lanes of the 610 Loop, she reminded that’s exactly what she did. See, my family’s originally from a little town in Louisiana called Alexandria. Don’t confuse this with the nice small towns. It’s not the John Mellencamp small town Americana brand of beauty with soda fountains and scarecrows. It’s the other kind. The one with rusty bridges, condemned high-rise buildings with busted out windows, the kind of town a person can get stuck in and never leave.

Really, no one dreams of someday moving to Alexandria.

After having four children my mom took a look around, the schools were terrible, opportunity was scarce, and she wanted something better for her family. So what’s a mom to do? Pack the kids up in a moving van and head to the city: Houston.

(not mom's actual family van)

Sure, there were challenges, jobs, housing, learning a new freeway system, learning to shoot buffalo, fighting off rabid cows with a thirst for blood (not all of these were challenges my mom faced), but in the end we were all better for it. The schools were better, the food was WAY better. Seriously, queso is an amazing thing!!! 

When we go back to visit that small town in Louisiana, it’s kind of sad. Not because I miss all the pit bulls in Houston, but because my mom was right. Making the decision to move the family to a better place wasn’t easy, but she did it anyway and it was the right thing to do.

My mom has cheered me on in my decision to head to Los Angeles (which is nice because it tells me she’s forgiven my brothers and I for our 1990 reenactment of WrestleMania VI in our living room, when we broke most of her crystal dishware). 

I thought about getting her something to say thank you. Something nice…like a pit bull.

Go All The Way

Charles Bukowski once said, "If you're going to try, go all the way. Otherwise, don't even start."

He was a brilliant man.

He also drank a WHOLE LOT.

But there's always some wisdom to be taken from those that have lived longer and especially from those who have lived by their own rules. At a certain point, you have to either commit to what's important to you, or abandon it like a pit bull that doesn't get along with the newborn.

Just kidding. I love pit bulls.

In less than 30 days I will be leaving the city I've called home for over ten years, packing my drum kit into the back of my pickup truck, and heading out west to Los Angeles.
Moving to L.A. has always been something I'd planned to do...someday.

Someday.

Funny, how those "somedays" seem to fly right by and-before you know it-a year has passed. For me, the signs have been popping up more and more and it's time for me to go all the way. This journey out west isn't just about finishing a book, or the adventure of an extended road trip (though I'm looking forward to both), but more than anything else, it's about trying. It's about putting an end to talking about the things I'll do...someday.

This is the idea at the core of what I will be writing about over the next few months. To search for something better. To see if I've really got what it takes to make it.

Otherwise, I'll just continue to stare at a half-finished book and scribbles of story ideas to be developed, but-more than anything-I really don't want to end up drinking as much as Bukowski because I can't stop wondering, "What if...someday..."