My Ghost Life

Spending the Thanksgiving weekend in the sun and warmth was almost as nice as spending that same weekend in the arms of someone I love very much.

The first thing that I realized was that I left a much larger part of myself in Houston than I'd originally thought. The second thing that I realized was that no, I still don't like Texas. It smells like everyone drives their SUVs all the time, mostly because they do. SUVs and the cell phone-wielding yuppies who drive them suck, that's been true long before I moved up to Hippytopia in Oregon.

This is downtown Houston in November. A pleasant 74 degrees of deep-fried goodness.

From the second I stepped off of the plane to the first morning that I woke up in Chad's arms, Houston was all too familiar. I settled back into that city like a comfortable chair I'd forgotten I still had in storage (the smell and the stains were about the same). Seeing my friends again didn't feel like a reunion as much as it felt like I just hadn't been able to see them on account of being busy. For a year. REALLY busy. I still miss them all, but less so now that I know there's still a big piece of that essential MEness still down south, being cranky and lovable and nerdy all at the same time.

Seeing Chad again was not as intense as I'd thought it would be. We've talked so much and shared so much in this past year that I never really left him in any way that counts. He's always been in my heart because my love for him never faded. Of course it was unspeakably wonderful being with him again, but I won't write the particulars down as Chad is a little shy and, um, we had a year's worth of "maritals" to catch up on. I'm very glad that his roommate was out of town as it saved on the noise complaints.

This fountain has hosted many picnics. It cools you off on a balmy summer day.

Being in Houston made me realize that I've been living two lives this past year. One up here in Portland, going through the day-to-day trials and joys of paying rent and simply being alive; and one dream life down there, still spending Saturdays drinking Mountain Dew and playing Dungeons & Dragons until all hours of the morning or going out and drinking with my incredible friends and scoping out the parade of hot guys that pack into Houston by the busload (I'm in love, not blind).

This is the only decent (re: PG) picture of me and Chad. He's a lot more lively than my camera makes him look.

The question being: if both towns hold equal parts of my heart, which life is the ghost life?