March was boring. Relative to the last few months, I did little of interest to anyone other than me.

This month allowed me to acclimate to my new work and get situated at my new residence. I did some spring cleaning in multiple regards–environmentally via Craigslist sales and Goodwill donations, mentally via cutting back personal projects , physically via dental and optometric exams, professionally via resume cleanup, digitally via server consolidation, and spiritually via bad habit kicking. Isn’t that exciting?

I had acquired the bulk of my living room furniture for $9 when living in Schenectady. I’ve travelled with it since, but with my now slightly smaller apartment, I was better off without it. The same went for a pile of old t-shirts and a microwave. Moving apartments a lot generates a deal of excess. Some units have microwaves, some don’t. Some have balconies and others dryers. As such, each move leaves you with excess in some things and a shortage in others. One of these current shortages was a living room rug. After a beloved trip to Ikea, I stand behind the Dude: It really tied the room together.

This March was the Lenten season, so I was inspired to kick bad habits and hold a series of personal retrospectives. The result: A realization that I waste an inordinate amount of time on personal projects that yield more headache than value. I’m now trying to divert that energy into cultivating better holistic health. I scheduled my annual appointments to get new contact lenses and an inspiration to floss. So far, I’ve been consistent enough for my gums to stop bleeding. Small wins. I also cleaned up my digital life. Rather than spending $30/month on highly customizable virtual servers to host my blogs, I switched to HostGator for a 3-year shared contract at a quarter of the price. Did I mention this post was sponsored?

But it wasn’t a wholly boring month. On the weekend, I explored the surrounding landscape. From wandering about Mount Diablo–the ~4000 ft mountain that overlooked San Ramon–to the hills of Las Trampas, I can now say that the idyllic rolling green hills are just as majestic to the touch. It’s a beautiful area that inspires me from the inside out.

February began in Schenectady for a weeklong work event. After spending time with peers, I got to ski on my first non-Michigan mountain. So, my first mountain. After New York, I flew back to my apartment in New Orleans and moved out my remaining possessions in the morning. It was good to leave. As much as appreciated the character of New Orleans, living next to Canal and Bourbon Street wasn’t a good fit for me. Too much vomit on the sidewalks, music in the streets, and crowds. If I live in the area again, I’ll keep some distance from tourist territory.

I spent the day driving through Louisiana toward Shreveport. I stopped at Driskill Mountain as dusk fell and capped my 24th highpoint. The relative elevation and surrounding hardwood forest impressed me. After leaving, I drove through Texas and slept at rest area outside of Dallas. It was the first time I slept in my truck in almost two years, so it was a much-needed night. In the morning, I continued across Texas, marveling at the unexpected scenery–a hillside littered in nothing but truck beds and the coexistence of oil wells, wind turbines, and beef cattle. I entered New Mexico, stopped at a curio shop along Route 66, and bought a horsehair hoodie. That night, I wimped out, got a hotel, ate at Denny’s, and soaked in the hot tub.

The next day, I kept trucking through Arizona. The curvy and pothole-ridden roads that wound through the snowy, coniferous mountains of Flagstaff threw me off guard. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought I was in Montana. As the sun was setting, I crossed the Colorado River to California. Interestingly, there was an agricultural border patrol. Thankfully, they permitted my palm trees and bamboo plants. The trip would have been for naught otherwise. That evening, I slept in another rest area near Bakersfield. It was incredibly windy. I could feel it against the truck as I lied down. The dull white noise relaxed me.

On the fourth day, I finished my 2,200 mile journey to San Ramon. On the final stretch of the trip, I enjoyed the rolling green hills–finally relieved from the seven-year drought–and the countless wind turbines they hosted. I moved into my apartment and re-acquainted myself with the Bay Area–from the bag-less grocery shopping to the self-absorbed residents. In the remaining days of the month, I settled into my new home and new job. My truck, having now earned the name “Old Faithful,” received a well-deserved break as I incorporated biking into my daily commute and default mode of transportation. With a recreational trail behind my apartment and work and a BART station no more than 5 miles away, I can reach most anywhere I need via bike. This is great physically, economically, and environmentally and something I’d like to keep up wherever I live in the future.

The stark contrast between New Orleans and the Bay Area is something to note. New Orleans–despite being dirty, chaotic, and rampant with questionable infrastructure–had rich culture, enjoyment, and friendly people. It was very human. The Bay Area is the opposite. It is clean, efficient, and orderly. While there is plenty to do and enjoy, the people are not as friendly–more self-important and terse in interactions–and there is little culture or identity. I will enjoy living in the land of the robots, but I will miss the humanness of New Orleans.

The first month of 2017 was dead. Deader than a doornail.

It started with the bang of a hundred amateur fireworks in New Orleans and ended quietly in Schenectady. January always seemed to move quick. Although short-lived, the month was amok with activity and change, as these were my final days working in Louisiana.

I finally visited the WWII Museum and learned how little I knew about the War. The establishment was impressive–architecturally staggering, historically rich, and crafted to elicit the immensity of events in the not-so-distant past. The displays walked you through countless stories and the theatre left you in awe. To say the least, my perspective on contemporary American life changed after the visit. As much as I hate prescribing “must do” activities, the WWII Museum is certainly a must do in New Orleans.

In my last month, I also made several trips across the river. One with family to eat at a restaurant. One alone to bike around. One to hand-deliver a t-shirt I sold on Etsy. And another with a friend. The last trip was the last ride of the night, and we got trapped in Algiers. The bridge was inaccessible to walkers, sadly, and we had to get a Uber.

When this same friend was visiting, we took a day trip to Biloxi, MS to swim in the Gulf. The water was surprisingly warm (for Michiganders), and seagulls and contraband littered the beach. We almost stepped on a syringe.

The tailgate of my truck had rusted beyond repair, so I buried it in a dumpster. It was oddly sad leaving it behind–felt as though I was abandoning a piece of me, like a severed arm. I imagine that if my arm was ever chopped off, I’d like to keep it. Seeing that it’s not a renewable resource, like hair or fingernails, it would be weird to throw it away forever. Nonetheless, the severed tailgate made reversing my truck easier.

December began with a flight back to New Orleans from Greenville. Christmas was around the corner, and the city was sure to recognize it with its vast display of light and decorations. I visited an impressive light show in City Park–acres upon acres of themed light displays and even some fake snow. Luna Fête, an arts and light festival, materialized downtown and I was awestruck by the video projected onto the pillars of the art museum. The fifteen-minute show depicted a colorful history of the resilient spirit of New Orleans and seemed to transform the building it was projected upon. In addition, a few friends came to visit before I was back in Greenville to deploy software in the shop. To our relief, it was a successful Go-Live.

After hassling with poor Delta policies on flight changes and cancellations (they charge you to cancel one leg of your trip and keep the second, FYI), I returned home to Grand Rapids. Through visiting friends and family, I got to see snow, go skiing, and witness the changing urban landscape of downtown. A week was plenty of time for a Christmas visit, but it was, as always, welcomed. As much as I like Christmas, I did notice a lot of stress and discomfort among the people celebrating it. Personally, I’d like to reduce the holiday to its core–lose the presents and decorations and focus on giving oneself to others and sharing good spirits. Unfortunately, it’s hard to change tradition. Un dulce resignación.

After Christmas, my parents and sister flew back with me to New Orleans. I played tour guide and we got to celebrate New Year’s Eve in the French Quarter. Despite the rain, it was fun to break our traditions and explore a new place. As we welcomed 2017 from my roof, we watched countless professional and amateur fireworks explode around the city. The smoke of Louisiana freedom filled the wet air until the lights and buildings blurred into obscurity.

It was great end to 2016.

November is one of my favorite months of the year. It’s cool, the trees naked, prep for winter underway, the holiday season begins, and I get a lot of writing done. Albeit the excitement, it’s certainly a busy time. National Novel Writing Month kicked off on the first of November and concluded on the thirtieth. I participated for my third year and “won” (a.k.a “wrote 50,000 words for a future novel”). The book is certainly far from complete–the first draft is only half done and I need to run a mop through the word vomit of that first half. But, I produced the words and that’s all that matters.

In addition to writing, I had my fair share of truck troubles–battery connection failures, oil leaks, dents, and more. Whatever I couldn’t fix, I brought to a mechanic across town. It was a good use for my new bike–having to ride ten miles across town several times between appointments, at night. After dropping some of my emergency funds on the repairs, I hope to squeeze another year out of the truck.

On a more positive note, I had the opportunity to attend GE’s Minds+Machines conference–a two-day event in San Francisco, showcasing the company’s digital industrial journey. I helped out with the Renewable Energy display and got to talk to many minds about the machines they work with. Shortly after the event, I headed home to Grand Rapids for Thanksgiving, so I visited family and a few close friends. Immediately after that, I flew back to Greenville for work stuff. For whatever reason, all but one of these dozen flights had me in a middle seat. The good news? I learned to sleep sitting up.