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Coming Home Part 1: Going Out Hot! ;)




So, I guess it’s time to tell you all the deets about how my cross-country trip went, huh? Yeah, I think it is. I made sure to make the trip back memorable this time. There is one incident that I did not expect to happen, but most importantly it was a learning experience, and I’m here to tell the tale. I really took my time coming back to Ohio. When I drove to California, time seemed to go so fast. I literally made it there in three days. This time it took me about five days to get home. I stayed in one hotel just to take a nap for a few hours! Yep, I was burning money homie, because I could! I had it like that and still got it like that; and if the Universe doesn’t mind, I will like to keep it like that. It’s rather enjoyable right now.


If you’ve been reading my blogs for the past two years, you’ll notice that I’ve had little things to say about L.A. that were “nice”. Looking back on my time in the city was fun at times, however, all I did was complain. Now, it wasn’t the usual complaining about the traffic (even though this did get on my nerves but not until it was too late) or it being crowded, no. My frustrations we more focused on the sun, constantly beaming on my forehead for more than six months out of the year. Then there was the constant struggle of trying to find an apartment at a reasonable $1,100 in a decent neighborhood or something. The cost of living in this place for it to be so “rich” is a crime. I wanted to live in Long Beach so bad. It was the only place I found that wasn’t too far from the city and it was pretty to me. This mindset held strong until the day I packed my sh!% and left Van Nuys. I did make the best of my time, I think. I made friends and had some interesting experiences. I drove around, ate some good food, ran into an ex, resolved that DID ME with a couple of people, had two good jobs, and after all that, I still wanted to leave. “Lost” Angeles was NEVER my final destination and I didn’t plan on staying long. I said all this to say, the decision to move back wasn’t that hard. Once I made up my mind there was no going back.


My last few days were interesting. As I was making the usual run-around to get my car ready for the long journey, I needed to think of ways to save as much money as possible. I didn’t plan on keeping Sasha when I got back to Cleveland, so I didn’t want to sink too much money into her. I ended up taking care of the most important parts of the car: tires, and spark plugs. I know most of you may be thinking, “Nah, an oil change is the most important,” but I was too lazy to get it done. I’m here so it worked out in the end. Anyway, my roommate, let’s call him Tony Montana, is a mechanic. In my mind, I said cool, he can fix my car for the low-low and I can keep my money in my pocket. He agreed which I knew he would. The ole boy has had a crush on me for a while. So, It’s three days before I leave, and he does me the favor of taking a look under the hood to see what needs to be done. He tells me I need spark plugs and oil change, but as you know, I said fuck the oil. I began the conversation by asking where was he from, how did he grow up, how long has he been in California; because not only am I nosey about other people’s history, I am extremely curious about people coming from different countries and cultures. He’s from South America (I won’t point out where) and moved to California when he turned 18 years old. Turns out, he’s not as young as I thought he was. I figured he was at least around my age, maybe 28 or even 30. Ya’ll this man was 37, divorced, with a daughter. I was shook. After that, he asked if we could have a drink session together since I was leaving. Without hesitation, I agreed. Shit, I wanted to have a little fun since it was my last few days. I thought why not.


This photo has shit to do with shit

I'm not going to go into full details because this is hardly that kind of blog (limited pornography). Shout to the women that do. Anyway, it was late at night; we sat, we drank two bottles of wine in my bed. My room was practically packed up at this point. The plan was to ride out tomorrow. He didn't seem to mind as he shouldn't. his room was filled up to the brim with any and everything, and it reeked with engine oil! Moving on, I was already tipsy but it took him a minute to feel anything after those bottles. I knew what I was signing up for. I was tired of playing already. I urged him to move a little faster in the awkward "getting to know you" process by asking if he wanted to kiss me in the sweetest of ways (#annoyed). He quickly fell into my lips. At that moment, I knew he was ready to go, and boy oh boy, he did not disappoint! I was in complete awe everyone, I wasn't expecting, what I was expecting, you know? And I told him that! He just laughed, but I was so fucking serious. Every time we took a break, Tony Montana would sleep for a bit. If you'd seen how he slept, you probably would make this heart-touching, puppy dog face. His every breath let out under mine. He would occasionally kiss my nose and my neck, pull me tighter as he gave me a sniff. I thought it was cute. So adorable, I just gently and sensually returned the favor. I would lightly plant kisses all over his face, rub my lips across his nose and mouth, kiss him there. Run my fingers through his curly hair and gaze at him in his sleep. AHHHH!! Such intimacy! It was refreshing. That lasted three nights. My driving time kept getting pushed back because I was waiting for something important. Finally, the day came where I said, "FUCK IT!"I packed the rest of my car up, said my goodbyes, and pulled off; waving goodbye to nightly lover of course. In my head the whole time, I was thinking we could have been doing this but you pussied out on me. Oh well, I guess it was meant to be that way.


On the road again! Feeling good, feeling great! Feeling like I made the right decision and no one can take that away from me. I made this decision on my own!...right? Yes, I did make this decision, and whatever comes out of it, is on me. I have a plan for when I got back home and it consisted of a lot of writing, keeping as few distractions as possible, and getting money, periodt. Luckily for me, money is not the hard part. It's concentration and discipline. Maybe your not me like me. Maybe discipline is your strong suit. Whatever it may be, working past those struggles/inner demons is so uncomfortable and difficult it can feel as if you're fighting this sad, old part of you. Pushing towards a better you every day feels like a literal fight! It takes mind over matter to overcome the hurdles of your own limitations. You have to want it, that's all there is to it. Are you going to fight for who you want to be? Or, when you're old and tired you have no choice but to reflect on your life and feel nothing but regret. All because you didn't at least try.


Driving through the states made me feel as if I can start over as much as I want. I just have to keep trying. I'll get to where I desire to be, I trust me. I will not give up on my life, no matter how hard it gets, and you know it gets harder before it gets any easier. That's what they say, I for would one wouldn't mind a few easy bumps, I'm just saying. But, here we go, It never stops. Until next everybody, there's still more to tell. Like how I got pulled over without driving. I was just trying to take a nap.


Stay Positive. Stay Focused. Vibrate Higher. Peace