My disdain is simple. I lack patience for the vapid and vacuous. I’ve often been heard bad mouthing the South Tampa native with their artificial plumage: vertically striped shirts, bulbously impertinent false breasts, perfectly hydrophobic hair, and popped collars on pastel colored Polos. While socializing, like with any other animal, it is easy to avoid these creatures. Simply make a wide swath around the bars and clubs vomiting bad covers of Dave Matthews Band over their P.A. or turn tail and run when you hear the mind numbing 4/4 beat of one of their beloved House Music venues.

I have found small pockets where I am comfortable and happy, like miniature oases in a vast desert of suck. Places like The New World Brewery and Fuma Bella were like a second home at times. The Hub with its absurdly alcoholic drinks and PBR in a can caused me countless mornings of self inflicted pain. After later moving to Pinellas, I found myself at Indian Shores Coffee and Mickey Quinn’s Irish pub, where I made more than a few fast friends.

Which brings me to a poignant part of this note. I will miss my family and friends in Florida, of which I have made many and reconnected with others which will last until my end. To them I say “thanks,” for putting up with my quirks this long. I’ll certainly miss each of them. Though far and out of the way, there will be a place in Seattle for them to crash if they find themselves in the Pacific North-West.

My move from Florida may seem quixotic to some, but I assure you it is not. It certainly isn’t a “safe” venture in terms of sensibility, but it is a necessary one for my peace of mind. I will paraphrase Oscar Wilde: If you’re living within your means, you are not at all living.

It’s time I started living again.