Origin Story Vol 3.

3.
The overall plan was to drive to Newport Beach where my (evil) aunt lives and meet my mom there where she would act as a buffer while I looked for an apartment and a job. With the money I had left I could afford to live for a few months in an apartment with a rent rate of about $700-800 a month. As far as a job went, I wanted something in the industry, because if I wanted to do retail or food I could have stayed in Austin.

The morning of the 28th I awoke at about four. It was still pitch black outside and the air was still warm and muggy, a typical summer night in South Texas. A million thoughts raced through my head as I prepped myself for the almost 600 mile leg of the first day. Some part of me was trying to convince myself that there was an alternative to making this trip. "Austin is the place to be, yo" "LA will eat you alive and spit you back to your parents' house" and the coup de grace: "Dude, you'll never get laid in LA". That last one is still haunting me even now, granted I don't have enough free time to do anything about it.

My parents, as a show of support, were up and dressed when I jumped into my car and took off into the darkness. As I drove off I took in my neighborhood of 12 years with new eyes. My typical mentality of "God, I fucking hate San Antonio" was replaced by a sense of pseudo-sentimentality. I wasn't necessarily sad I was leaving, but I was thinking that this might be the last time I ever see this neighborhood. There's the house of the girl I had an unrequited crush on for six years. There's the home of that bitch that pointed out my acne in 8th grade. There's the house of that fucking redneck prick that humiliated me in front of everyone on our bus freshman year of high school.
God, I fucking hate San Antonio.

The trip through West Texas was pretty sweet: big rocks, desert, mountains, hills and lots of open highway. If Edward Hopper had grown up in Marfa he would have loved the first leg. I was making stops every 150 miles or so to make sure I had a half a tank left as well as take in a little bit of the towns I was stopping in; bustling metropolises such as Van Horn, Ozona and Fort Stockton. One scary moment was when I was within the city limits of El Paso and I-10 seemed to be heading toward the huge Mexican flag in Juarez. I totally thought I had taken a wrong turn and I was going to Mexico.

As far as my stay in New Mexico goes, I'll just say this: Las Cruces is ghetto.

The second day was a little harder than the first. I was going from Las Cruces to El Cajon, California. I left at five and headed west before the sun could burn the land too badly. This leg was going to be a little more tedious. I was going through three states and an extra hundred miles. I saw a lot of cool shit along the way and someday I hope to go back and do the tourist thing. But the main thing I started to notice was the mountains. I have lived in Virginia and South Carolina, so I have seen the Appalachians but I still find myself staring at mountains here in Los Angeles. The Appalachians are like withered old hags of mountains. Why look at some wrinkly old A's when you can have some awesome young C's, you know?

Day three was sweet because I got to sleep in, as I was a few miles outside of San Diego in El Cajon. I was planning to meet with my mom in Newport Beach around one in the afternoon and the trip would only take about two hours, max. Unfortunately I arrived too early and was forced to tread water with my aunt for an hour or so talking about bullshit like weather. Here's why I don't like visiting family: you (or maybe just I) have to put on this false persona of a nice guy. I was a very nice guy a few years back, so it was easier then. But as time went on and the world wouldn't let up with the letdowns I grew bitter, then angry, then dark. One of the Archer brothers in Austin (I forget which one) described me as a "boiling cauldron of rage". So when I am forced to sit down with someone I explicitly don't like, it takes a lot of effort for me not to fucking tell him or her off. My aunt is very rich and as much as I try not to be, I am still materialistic. It's an endless cycle.

So after arriving in Southern California and camping out on the floor of a huge Newport Estate, I began my search for employment and residence.