Well, I’m in L.A., 9:56 PDT. On East Coast time, it’s one in the afternoon. I’m sitting in front of my gate on my final flight from LA to Sacramento.

I am in love with my noise canceling headphones. They allowed me to sleep through nearly the entire transcontinental flight. I watched some of the Wonderful Electric DVD on my iPod, had the inflight beverage, and the next thing I knew I was waking up on the final descent into LA.

I really really really don’t want to take a cab home, but it looks like the only option that will completely protect my precious MacBook from theft. And hell no, am not riding light rail. But it will cost $50 or so. I’ll see if it’s cheaper if I take the bus that drops me off in front of Macy’s downtown and then get a cab from there. I mean, it’s going to be the morning, nobody’s going to be on the buses. I’ll just feel it out. If I feel any shady factor, I’m getting a damn cab.

Also, I had my mom straighten my hair.

This is my “I hate L.A.” face (with newly straightened hair).

What do you think? I think it looks amazing, I’m in love with it.

I’m sort of falling more in love with Karen O. the more that I watch the “Maps” video. I need to listen to that album more.

I’m writing this in the kind of text editor that you’re supposed to write PHP in. It highlights every bit of code I enter, italics and bold. I considered calling Megan and Steve, but it’s short notice and I didn’t call them while I was away anyway. I wish Brian had a car, but then we would probably have so much fun driving around it would be illegal.

Terry is hella asleep. He sent me his last text at 7 a.m.

Or maybe the timestamp is only when my phone received it. Who knows. It’s time for Massive Attack music videos. And more reflection on the fact that I think I have become an AdriTaggart.

I can’t end relationships when they aren’t going well. It’s one of my biggest flaws. What the fuck is Drew doing in Tahoe anyway? Why does anyone go there. My grandma’s going there for a few days too. She told me a week before, but I think she’s lying to make it seem shorter so I won’t have anyone over.

She doesn’t get it. I’m not John. I won’t invite my drunk asshole friends over to destroy everything at her house. That bitch is so twisted. I was telling my East Coast grandma Jean (who is fucking amazing, in all the ways old Italian women can be) about all the things that Grammie does, and she was astounded.

Having Christen gone doesn’t do much for my feeling of having a constant reality either. But I think Brian and I are going to do something. I just don’t trust myself in the same zip code as Terry. And we’re supposed to get coffee and see Paris J’tamie. I mean, yes, the cutest night ever, but it’s cheating.

And I realize: I’m bored by my boyfriend. He’s a great guy, but I just don’t see it going anywhere. We’re at totally different parts in our lives. I guess that’s the truth I’ve been dancing around the whole time.

Man, I’m hungry. Oh yeah! My mom packed me sandwiches. My mom rocks. Eww, crumb on my trackpad.

Gross.

I don’t know what to do today. Hook up my computers. Sleep. Unpack. Oh shit, they’re boarding. Now.

I’m at the airport in Newark, blasting music on my MacBook and waiting for my flight to leave. It’s going to be after this one that leaves at six, at least I hope. The wi-fi in the concourse is $7 for a day’s use, and I’m only going to be here for about another hour. $7 for an hour of connectivity? I don’t think so.

Yeah, I’m cheap. Deal with it.

I’m writing this in Smultron, one of my favorite apps for OSX. It’s a stripped-down text editor that is actually quite feature-laden. I love text editors. Especially ones that display what line you are at. I’m writing line five.

Okay, I feel like I’ve been an asshole to Drew. I go back and forth between thinking he’s the ass and that I am. I mean, there was a reason for that fiasco that happened at Trash Film Orgy.

I have this feeling like he’s still in the closet in a lot of ways.

It’s a horrible thing to agree with Annie, but I am what she pretends to be, a person that enjoys it when all my friends comingle. Especially when it’s friends and my boyfriend. When you’re dating someone you’re not just dating them, you’re dating their friends too. Which is hard.

I dunno. I mean, I need to stop complaining to Brian that he never spends time with me.

After the last week, I am totally fucking spoiled.

And it’s all about Terry.

Ok.

Terry is um…totally fucking awesome. We have been texting each other near-endlessly (I need to check my SMS limit when I get back to connectivity), and I am so into him. But I’m in a relationship. And then, when I think about it, Drew and I aren’t good for each other. I get this standoffish feeling from him that I just can’t shake. I just keep thinking back to this one time when we were first talking about dating, where I asked him what he wanted from a relationship, and he couldn’t give me an answer.

I thought he would think about it for a while and then tell me, but he didn’t. I don’t want to interrogate the boy, I just want to know what’s going on in his lovely head.

About a week into the trip, I was complaining that he wasn’t calling me, and I wanted to call him, but then I was like “Wait…what the hell would we talk about? I thought that he was just shy, and he has become much less shy, but he never has much to talk about. And I don’t get why.

Okay, before the Internet, there were excuses for not having much to say. But come on, people. There’s Digg. There’s every newspaper published all over the world available online. Why would one have nothing to talk about? This is from me, the guy who uses nearly 3,000 minutes a month on his cell plan. Seriously. So I just don’t get it.

Oh thank the gods, the flight attendant just said that this was the right gate. Awesome.

There’s a Starbucks here, I should spend that $7 on delicious delicious chai (I did, after I finished the post). Today of all days I’m realizing that a computer without the Internet is pretty much useless these days. I even forgot to put some TV shows on the internal HD, so I’m stuck with just music and a few music videos. So basically my computer could be replaced by a typewriter with an iPod stapled on.

I guess it’s going to be about writing when I’m on the plane. Or maybe more about Tetris. Who knows. I don’t have one of those privacy screens, so I don’t think it’d be a great idea to write while on the plane. I did get a window seat though…eh, who knows. I’ll have six hours to plumb the depths of my boredom.

It was so depressing leaving my mom this morning. I was crying, she was crying, it was horrible. But flying is such an odd and amazing thing. You just have this piece of paper and a passport and you show it to everyone and they usher you into this esoteric world in the sky. I dunno. I guess it’s ’cause I haven’t flown for years that I’m so enamored with the whole process. Well, not enamored, but astonished.

Omigod, the day before I left my mom took me on a shopping spree at this FUCKING MASSIVE mall in Paramus. Basically, Paramus is where all the rich people in New Jersey live, and this mall was insane. Basically every store was Luis Vuitton, Guess, Lacoste, Express…it was insane. There were stores that you would look at and just know you couldn’t afford anything in them. It was crazy.

But my mom bought me this beautiful amazing Express jacket, this one I’d wanted for YEARS. I’m in love with it. Well, my wrists are starting to hurt, I should stop typing. Voice-Rec in public would be such a faux pas. :)

I guess Amanda P. says it best:

It’s been decades since my pit days
but i havent shaken it - i sit there like an idiot
still caught up in the old punk protocol
and dreaming that the teenagers will think that i’m a radical

and i still wait for the bus to come where high school got torn down
still expecting to find true love among the skateboarders hanging out
in back of the bank in my hometown