Rock Lobster

I'm somewhat excited. Somehow through my ramblings, wikimetro wants to feature on my blog, saying that as far as Oakland, I have been viewed 14 times in a week. To which I must say ...
Where art thou, you lurkers?! Or is my shameless self-promotion working. Yes? I hope so.

Well, if this is really "the big time", let me first explain something: I never really wanted to leave Oakland, I honestly love it. I'm not quite sure that it was because I didn't grow up in Oakland, or that it was "anywhere but here", but I grew to fall in love with it. From Alameda to Emeryville, I felt seamless and fluid in the back alleys and dive bars.
I named this little project "Leaving Oakland or Lackthereof" because I was originally conspiring to use the last of my school loan money (whoops) to take a train out to Plymouth, Michigan to interview my supposedly dying grandmother. This woman was the first of my mother's side of the family to take a great risk, and almost unrepentedly regret it to the point where she has the remains of my grandfather in a can at the funeral home where he's been for the past ... 18 years.
Life is what happens when you're busy making plans, and yes, I ran out of that money. I also ran out of money to live on my own, sadly, and I had to leave my beloved Oakland.
I've been back in Newark (the sphincter in the Asshole that is Fremont, end of the BART line, and the bane of my existence more or less) for the past two months, give or take. Rediscovered a few truths:

1. It is damn near impossible to get around here (Fremont, Newark, Union City, Hayward) without a car
2. Almost nothing is open past midnight, save for Bay Street Coffee Company, bless your little octane hearts
3. Ignorance is more or less bliss, or at least refused me service at a See's Candies on Valentine's Day. I shit you not.
4. The heavier the woman, the tighter the clothes. Though I discovered that in Oakland and found that it drifted it's sweet Spandex self down to the good ol' Tri City Area

Also ... let it be stated for the record, that I am inconceivably, horribly and painstakingly AWKWARD when I'm attracted to someone.
I grew up with the old anecdote "looks aren't all that matters, personality counts too!" (I should find a picture of me with Groucho Marx eyebrows and braces ... they do exist!) when really ... no, personality didn't ever really enter into it, at least not early on, and when I ended up "like liking" someone. Low self-esteem gives one a strange sense of self-degrading humor, so apparently being a quasi-cute sarcastic comic nerd art school drop out is a hot commodity?
But I'm still opertaing on full social retardation upon someone actually showing interest, to the point of raising eyebrows.
My intentions are good, if not cheesy.

The goal for tonight: sleep without night terrors.
Cheers, fuckwits, you are loved by one awkward twat.