I Belong to the West Coast

I can remember when I stopped plotting to transfer to UCSB my freshman year here at BYU. It was at Thanksgiving. The fact that everyone here was Mormon wasn't freaking me out quite as much as when I had arrived, and also, everyone I knew from Utah invited me to go eat Thanksgiving dinner with them and their family. Really nice, I think. So anyways, that outpouring of brotherly love preempted a sudden flight to California.

Now that I'm back from my mission, I really like BYU. The girls here are clean, it's the means by which the greatest football team ever can exist, and my friends aren't drunk and puking. Like ever. But every time I go back to the West Coast, It just feels right. Most recently, this happened in both Portland and Seattle, but it's true for all of it. Well, let me qualify that. SoCal isn't really my thing. I have nothing against beaches and sunshine. In fact, I really like them, but I just am smitten with the hippy-esque, tattooed, multiple pierced, granola, far-left people from SF on north. I'm also a big fan of the grassy hills and forests. It's just a nice thing to have.

So yeah, going to Grad School is nice that way. I can (to some extent) control where I end up. I don't really know for sure where that'll happen, when I'm honest with myself, but I hope it works out like I want it to.