Before I Begin: I've spent the better part of the last six weeks not in Cedar City. Also, I have spent the better part of the last ten minutes attempting to disarm the smoke alarm in my roommate's room. It wouldn't stop chirping. I was freaking out...
Oh, and this is obviously not a China Trip Blog - but I still have one more blog about that trip. Just not in the mood to elaborate on that particular thing tonight.
Note: I got this idea when I was driving back up here from Barstow. I had stopped listening to the radio and it was silent in my car from the north side of the Virgin River Gorge and I was tired, and slightly cranky from driving. And hot because my AC doesn't work. I mean everything in this letter, but it actually doesn't bother me after I arrive in my apartment and get on with life. At least... the more important things in life. But I thought it could be a very entertaining blog - to document some of my RIDICULOUS thoughts on the way up late Sunday night. :)
Dear Cedar City,
First of all, in all my drives back and forth between here and Barstow I have yet to not lose my patience between St. George and here. I've never been able to go up those steeper inclines on my cruise control - and I freaking hate when I lose momentum and then have to manually control my speed while climbing. Because I suck at it, and I'm so ready to be done by this point. But Sunday night I thought I could make it -- but there was road construction. Really? That very well may have been my last drive up here for ANYTHING. Ever. Ever think about that, Cedar, huh? Maybe you should collaborate with St. George and think about fixing this problem. Like ban all the really old people from driving post road construction...
Also, this is the only city I've ever driven in where the streets are so smooth. I actually really love that about you, Cedar - your streets are always in great condition. But, you see... those things that the Ninja Turtles climb out of and use as a sewage traveling are every block right where my left tires are usually aligned. Because, you see, there're cars parked along the curb, and so I can't exactly get much closer to them to avoid these sewage things. And then if I swerved the other way I'd be facing oncoming traffic. So I'm left with no choice than to let my left tires endure constant bumps - so my question is: why is the street so much higher than those stupid lids that cover whatever it is that they cover? And why can't they be in the dead center of the street? Where no one will hit them on a consistent basis...
Oh! And why does Hamilton Fort completely psych me out into thinking it's Cedar? And one of those mile markers is WRONG! I don't care what anyone says.
Why are you called a Mountain-Desert? It only confuses the citizens of this very beautiful city. It tricks the natives into thinking you are actually more of a desert, than a mountain. You are not a desert. At least not just a desert. Let's be honest here, Cedar, you get water throughout the summer (not often, but throughout) and you snow. You also have... greenery. Beautiful red soil, unforgettable sunsets, gorgeous thunder storms, and GREENERY. Have you met my dear old friend, Barstow? Let people see the whole you. Your "Mountain" side, if you will. It's sexier...
You are the home, Cedar, of the off-ramp that gives me vertigo every time. Every. Single. Time. You should be proud, because I usually stop in Mesquite and then have to deal with the insane hairpin turn of an on-ramp -- but I don't experience the wonderful feeling of vertigo until I get off at your first exit. Then I can't seem to manage to "feel" the 45 mph speed limit for those precious blocks on Main Street. Which reminds me, you really need to take a look at why your speed limits are what they are....
I appreciate your clean air and blue skies, Cedar. I spent three weeks away from you and missed you terribly. But unfortunately when I'm here again, I want to be gone again. Do you know why that is Cedar? I bet you do. Take a look at the people who are here, and the people who are not. Thank you for keeping so many people I love employed, schooled, and otherwise stuck here in the little city that is so charmingly Cedar. However, I can't help but want you to be something you're just not. It's not you... it's me...
Along with the people, I appreciate the University here, and the professor's I was so lucky to work with. I do... deep down, truly love you, Cedar. But I'm kind of coming to the end of my rope. But will always look back at my time spent getting to know you very fondly. I've grown up in so many ways because of the opportunities you have afforded me. Location can be everything. And I have, overall, loved being here.
But I thought I was going to die the other night when I was driving and couldn't see the lines defining the lanes at times. You could adopt the idea of bot-dots from Vegas that glow when my lights shine on them and let me know that I am, indeed, not going to die because I'm in a lane. Also -- I can't find a radio station that plays Rock Music - just like a million that play Country. This... is a problem.
But I love you. Despite the things that drive me crazy when I drive here...
Love, Katy
First, I think this is hilarious. It's also funny because I do not miss Cedar. Second, as a legitimate Cedarian (yes, that is the real and accurate term) I'm thinking as I read, "Well it can't be like that because of..." or "We know it's dumb, it wasn't our fault. It happened when this contractor from California tried to..." Third, I am sad you will be gone when I come back.
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