Truly, Madly, Deeply

When my family spent a Christmas vacation in Southern California in 1977/78, we took a day trip to San Francisco. That was where I found my first True Love. We rode the newly opened BART, and went to the Exploratorium. I loved the feel of The City, and we'd barely covered any of it. I was hooked.

In 1986, I was set to graduate for my two high schools, Fort Hayes, a sort of vocational school where I studied fine art, and my regular school, Northland. During my Spring Break, as everyone went to FLorida, I took a bus to San Francisco to show my portfolio to a school there, in hopes of getting a scholarship. I had basically looked up san Francisco Art schools in a catalog at Ft. Hayes. Everyone else went to the Columbus College of Art & Design. I wanted out. I wanted to go to The City.

I never held too many illusions about my talent. I never thought I was any good, and my mother was fond of pointing that out on a regular basis. So, if I couldn't dazzle them with my skill, I'd blow them away with my productivity. The average student would make one big painting. I made ten. The average student in my class made one weaving, I made three, not matter what it was, I made several of them, because I knew they wouldn't be that good, so one of them would hit. I would work on at least three or four paintings at any one time, so that if I get stuck on a composition, I'd just change my focus to another one. As it stood, I had several paintings in the Governor's Art Show in the mid 80's. Don't ask me which, I kept no records when I left.

The school I went to show my portfolio to was impressed, and gave me a small scholarship. That was enough for me to go.

However, at the time, they had no student housing. I had never lived on my own. My family thought it was a bad idea to live so far away, and as a result I failed in my first attempt at living in San Francisco. I failed miserably.

I had always gotten The Blues from time to time, but after this failure, I was a wreck. I moved back home, and less than a year later, I followed my parents wishes and joined the Air Force. I did this after a week long bender at the processing place in Columbus, but that's another story for another time.

Almost six years later, I got out. My first wife picked me up at the air port and asked for a divorce on the ride to her place. A few months later, I moved to New Orleans*. I was still struggling with culture shock in Nebraska after living in Germany for so long.

After living there for six months, a few friends were going to go to Berkeley to college, and needed a ride out. So, of course I gave gave them a ride.

I was back with my first True Love. It was wonderful, walking the streets of the different neighborhoods. The City in 1993 was only slightly different than it is now. More artists, more LSD, slightly cheaper rent. I lived in The City, and developed a bit of agoraphobia whenever I went to the East Bay, or beyond. I saw no reason to leave.

Then I met my future second ex-wife. Long story. We moved to Seattle. Had a couple kids. I went back to school. got an associates degree in multimedia, found out I'm haywired, got a divorce, etc. The usual.

So, now I'm back. Been here since 1999. Survived the Dot-Com Bust, mostly ok. I live in the East Bay, where I can look at my True Love at sunset, and remember why I'm here. Met a woman I knew in Germany, found out she's The One. Didn't believe that existed 'til recently.

Now, I'm back in school. This time, for advertising. If I play my cards right, I'll graduate almost twenty years after first showing my portfolio to them.

Note* if you EVER go through a divorce, move to New orleans for awhile, I highly recommend it.