i realized last week that i probably shouldn't write reminder notes on the back of my hand or the inside of my wrist anymore. it would get me more than a few looks, i am sure. people have their palm pilots surgically attached here in this office, so some good ol' ink-as-reminder that you can't upload from your computer or download or whatever, and doesn't make that insane noise every 15 minutes or so just to remind the people

YOU ARE IMPORTANT. YOU HAVE MEETINGS TO ATTEND. YOUR OPINION MATTERS. YOU HAVE CLIENTS. YOU MAKE MONEY FOR THE ORGANIZATION.

would probably be frowned upon.

it's ok, just two more months, and then i am out of here. 9 more mondays. nine.

and then, i pack up my shit and leave this place.

for a new place.

i bet if i was a mechanic i could write reminders on the back of my hand

"return video"

"buy cran"

"new paint"

and etc.

but the notes i make on the back of my hands and the inside of my wrists, i like to make them into scientific-looking notations:

R_v

B_c

N_p

etc.

i have been thinking a lot about maps, lately. i want to get one of the midwest, because i plan on taking my truck, when i get it, and driving all over the place. it's totally unlike california, where the next state is a million miles away.

maybe i'll drive all the way to the east coast, and then drive through all of new england.

i'll probably save that trip until fall, though. i want to see what a real autumn looks like.

i think it's amazing that you can trace where you are and where you live to a single place on a map. you can relate it to every other point on earth.

it makes everything seem so small. just lines and points for towns and inches covering miles and so empty and alone.

my father has a special key he uses to lock up everything important he has. he connects that key to his home, the one where he grew up, in a place along a shore that wouldn't even get a point on a map.

i wonder if we all drew up our own maps, what we would leave out, and what we would put in.

i would mark where i got my first kiss, and the house where i grew up. i would mark the second apt i ever had, but not the first. i would mark fish ranch road and the refinery in my town.

i would mark the address where i sent all the love letters i have ever written.

not all the ones that were supposed to be love letters, but the ones that really were.

i would mark the beach where i almost drowned, and the parking garage where i got a concussion skateboarding.

and i would draw a long line in red, up the california coast, right along the 101.