unplanted

happy festivus

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Today I’m in NC. Tomorrow I’ll be back in SC. Saturday I’ll come back to NC. And then, Tuesday I’ll be blessed with a trip to Seattle. I’m really looking forward to that.

Things aren’t going so well here. Nothing out of the ordinary, pretty much what I’d expected, really. I’m not really able to communicate with anyone on the outside, as my Yahoo account is screwed up (at least when I try to access it from this computer); I can receive mail, but I can’t send. I’m in a roaming zone, too, which means no cell phone calls for me. And boundaries are pretty much nonexistant around here, so chatting on their phone isn’t really an option. Needless to say, I’m feeling rather trapped right about now. My only real solice comes from walking the dog, and she’s getting pretty tired of that.

I don’t think I’ll be coming back here much after this. It’s too depressing. I can’t stand to watch my parents age, to see them trapped in the rhythms of their hum drum lives. They don’t have much to offer in the way of conversation and have little to say in response to anything I have to say. So we watch a lot of TV and go to bed early.

I did manage to get out for a short drive this afternoon. Saw a good bit of the city, the East Carolina University campus and way too much traffic. This place is a little more stimulating than my old hometown, but there’s still not a whole heck of a lot to offer.

One of the more interesting things about my trip here was the drive up. Along I-20 we passed a couple dozen (at least) billboards that advertised something called ‘South of the Border.’ By what the signs said, I imagined it must be a theme park of some sort. So when we got close, I decided to pull off at the exit and get gas, in hopes of catching a glimpse of the place. As it turns out, there’s a town named South of the Border, SC. (By no strange coincidence, it’s just below the NC border.) The place is a huge tourist trap, a mess of gift shops and neon that becons to tourists headed north. One last chance to spend your money in SC, I suppose. But what really got me was the blatant racism, the blatant mockery of Mexican culture. Jeff had to use the bathroom at El Drugstore. A statue of a guy named Pepe greeted us just off the exit ramp. Pepe is a characiture, something akin to Speedy Gonzales, only human. It was sickening. My description here doesn’t begin to describe the place. I’m saddened by the fact that I’ll have to pass by it twice more before I get to head back to the place where things are normal.

I really love Seattle.

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Author: Kim Sharp

more later

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