Just this.

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I really hate moving. Specifically, I hate real estate agents. They all have names like Troy and Kent and Chip. They all wear shiny ties. Does having your Glamour Shot from 1987 on your business card really help you to sell houses? If so, I reject God.

We've gone out with Kip or Flip a couple of times but I just can't get excited. All of the houses look the same. We've only seen one that had a proper amount of character and I think it may have been a murder scene; among other dubious details, a large section of carpet had been inexplicably removed. The agent euphemised this as "functional obsolescence", but I don't know about that... I've been obsolete since 2003 and I'm as functional as ever. Don't judge.

I will miss living in Boulder but only a little. I would like to live in a city where strangers do not call me "bro". Ideally one where strangers don't talk to me at all. I certainly will not miss this particular house, having a shared wall and listening to the neighbors have awkward, rhythmless sex every ten days or so. I don't know that guy's name, but I'm giving him a metronome for Christmas.

When I was in junior high I used to walk home from school every day with two boys who were notable only for being the only seventh-graders in my covenant controlled community with consistent access to pot. At some point a section of the sidewalk became damaged (by us? Memory hazy). We returned days later to find fresh concrete with a fresher stick-scrawled inscription: AMBER GIVES HEAD.

I was not so naive as to be conceptually unfamiliar with oral sex, but I had never heard that particular phrase before. I asked my companion what it referenced, and he explained that it means Amber, well, sucks. Giggle.

I tried for several weeks to incorporate this new verbiage into regular rotation, but abandoned it after getting stupid scoffs from, well, everyone when I said that being grounded gives head, and you know that math test yesterday? That gave head too.

I figured it out eventually. I think I may have asked my mom.



I went to school with seven Ambers that year but only two were in my graduating class, which I find to be statistically significant.

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..It's not that it is hard to talk about as much as that I am just generally hard to talk about.

I am beating cancer although I am still losing at Mario Kart (thanks, Keith), so I believe it would be premature at best to make any over-arching declarations of personal growth. I would like to say I am happier now, more appreciative, life is precious and God and the bible. But for now I am the same.

I will update again when I reach some kind of epiphany, or when I go (morally?) bankrupt peddling scarlet letter temporary tattoos... Whichever comes first.

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Going to be okay.

Always is.