I am one hamburger away from being David Hasslehoff.

It's Thursday, 10:17 am, I'm cranking taken by Avail, the words speak to me somehow.

I leave in four days, and while i'm excited for the adventure, i'm kinda feeling ripped off, like the last 19 years have been stolen from me, and now i have nothing to show for it.

fucked up thing is, i've wanted this split for about 18 1/2 of the 19 years we've been together. every time i was out the door, i ended up staying because i felt obligated, i didn't want the kid to have only one parent, i didn't want her to have to be a single mom.

then we moved here, where I wanted to move. she hated it here, for the last year, she told me how she hates it here. then "the incident" happened, the final straw, and we are splitting, finally.

the plan was i would stay here, she would go back and resume her government job, making enough to support herself and rent/buy...

Oh hey, some people read my blog.

For those who may read my blog, please understand: I'm not looking for advice or sympathy (although I gladly accept any given). I say this because most of the crap I write in here will be kind of negative, but it's just how I deal with things, I write them out, lots of whining and complaining. If you want to give me advice or sympathy, I'll gladly take it, but I'm not fishing for it.

So why don't I make the entries private? Partly I'm a bit of a literary exhibitionist, but mostly I figure my crappy ass life has to be entertaining to someone, if nothing else they can look at me and think "damn, my life is shit, but I'm glad I'm not that guy." And so I don't want to rob anyone of the potential entertainment they might get from reading what a moron I am.

I will most definitely write in here while on the road, any chance I get.

Hmmm, a blog. Cool, I need a place to write stuff that I don't necessarily want just anyone to see. I'm going on a trip, going backpacking in Mexico. Kind of unplanned, some might call it "running away," and they would be right.

Me, a grown man, running away. I will put my marbles in my red handkerchief, tied it to a stick, and start walking, so to speak. Actually, I'm packing a bunch of crap into a backpack and heading out.

The plan is to cross into Mexico from Arizona, make my way to the Yucatan, then perhaps onto Belize, Panama, Peru, wherever. I'm gonna be a homeless guy.

At least for three months, depending on how things go. I have no real plan, just kind of winging it. I have learned, over the years, plans never work out. So I've stopped wasting time making plans that never happen, I always have to adjust and wing it anyway, might as well just wing it from the beginning.

So much I want to write,...