Happy Anniversary...Sort of...To Me!

Today marks one year since I moved to Greater Miami from the Upper Midwest.

Literally one year ago today me, my wife, and my dog drove our overloaded Jeep down I-95 and into Miami-Dade County.

And I can honestly say being down here has taught me a lot.

Things I love: the handful of friendly people I've met, especially on and through the blogoshphere, palm trees, winters with temperatures in the mid 70s, living less than a mile from the beach, being able to go to the beach in October (and November, and December, and January, and February), having a virtual National Geographic zone in my yard, what with the poison toads, tree frogs that will leap onto your head from the overhanging branches, wild iguanas, and wild parrots, the huge variety of ethnic food eateries, the rainbow of culture, and - while this may read like sucking up, it isn't - my job. There are no better and few equal towns in which to be a newspaper reporter, 'cause so much nuttiness happens here. Juicy news never ceases to develop here.

Things I don't love so much: Posers, all purpose posers, posers who go hungry so they can buy clothes to wear to the club and pose as wealthy people, posers who can't make rent so they can buy those same clothes, posers who post up in bars and clubs and pretend to talk on the cell phone so as to impress other patrons, posers who lie about their professional status so as to impress people, posers who lie about their accomplishments so as to impress people, posers who try to use big words (and often do so incorrectly) so as to impress people, posers who go hungry and live in grass shacks so as to pour all their money into cars they can't really afford, posers who live in gated communities but pretend to be gangsters, posers, posers, posers, posers, posers, posers, posers, posers, posers, posers, posers, posers, posers, posers, posers, posers, posers, posers, pretentious rich people who flaunt their wealth without tact or taste, posers, pretentious rich people who think wealth equals class, posers, groupies who would push their own grandmothers in traffic in order to get a shot at catching a celebrity's eye, posers, reckless drivers who give you 'tude for being in their way, posers, people who carry their little yappy dogs EVERYWHERE, posers, rude people who revel in their own rudeness, posers, celebrity worship, posers, and finally, posers.

I have, on the up side, developed more patience with traffic in South Florida, and for those (sort of still frequent) times when I have zero patience I've learned about a half dozen new international hand gestures to let the reckless drivers know what I think of them, their mothers, and the figurative horses they rode in on.

And also on the plus side my imagination has gotten a boost, 'cause you just can't make up the wackiness that is South Florida. And that, my friends, has given me new ammo in the novel I've been writing.

All in all, I'd call this a positive experience so far. Sure there are butt loads of posers here, but even they have positive lessons to give, whether they realize it or not: Forget who you want to be. Until you are that person, just be yourself.

Does that make sense? Hope so.

Peace and hair grease. I'm done till tomorrow.