I'm here, I'm alive, and I've started a new adventure. I'm definitely eating crow from all the times I told people moving and new places are fun, exciting adventures. Of course, new places and adventures seem great when you're connected to a fantastic community and know the place where you live and you are not leaving everything to start a new adventure. Even though I didn't have any friends in Colorado, I had a support system. Don't get me wrong, there are fantastic people who have welcomed me here but it just isn't home.
People drive like maniacs, pedestrians DO NOT have the right of way (I've almost died a few times), the roads don't make sense (their direction or their names: Boulevard -- that's the name of the street), the super markets are weird, the weather is sticky and muggy, did I mention that they have hurricanes, I don't know where I'm going because there aren't any mountains to mark the way, I'm learning a language that looks like Elvish (Elfish?) and I've started to say Y'all.
I like it, I think. I'm pretty sure this is where I'm supposed to be but I've wondered more times than not what the hell God brought me here for. I guess the best adventures are the ones where imminent failure is overcome. Those adventures are rarely easy and that's what makes it rich. Sometimes our only way is jumping-- I sure wish I would stop being afraid of heights.
P.S. R. Kelley called me earlier to remind me I'm the world's greatest -- so I guess things are pretty cool.
