I make no secret of the fact that John and I aren't exactly in love with Gainesville. I get a lot of questions about why we don't like it and, to be honest, it's hard to pin down. Off the top of my head, though, here are a few reasons:

1. I know I complain about the traffic around here, but it's honestly abysmal. Not only is it shocking to see so much traffic in a town this size, I can't tell you how many times in just one week I almost get smashed into by some reckless moron. I expect that when we go back to Kansas City (where it rarely happens, incidentally). But in a town of about 110,000? Every. Damned. Day.
2. Good restaurants? There are but a small handful. If, however, you want chain food (Chili's, Applebees, Carrabba's), you're in luck.
3. Ditto with shopping.
4. Panhandlers.
5. Public transportation? Hardly. There's a bus system, sure. But we live just a few miles from campus and, by bus, it would take me an hour and a half to get there.
6. Say it with me: economic backwater.
7. Cultural wasteland.
8. Unless you like Gator sports (which I do, don't get me wrong), there's very little to do here.
9. No real sense of community.
10. Gainesville is really isolated. It's two hours to Jacksonville, two hours to Orlando, and two hours (and change) to Tampa.

Honestly, though, this laundry list doesn't really get at it. It just sounds like a litany of complaints. The only thing I can really say is, it's a feeling. And Gainesville doesn't have the feeling of a nice place to live. It's bearable, yes. But not what I'd call nice.

I think that's the thing that's been so striking about moving to The South, that revelation that people here are real assholes. No, seriously. I'd always heard that The South is full of the nicest, friendliest people on earth. And after living here for four long years, I have to say that that's complete crap. A few weeks ago, John and I were in a left turn lane, headed home. Despite the fact that we had a green turning arrow, the guy in front of us was at a complete stop. John gave a quick tap to the horn, the universal sign for "if you hadn't noticed, the light's been green for several minutes." The driver hopped out of his vehicle, grabbed his crotch, and screamed "SUCK MY BALLS!" at the top of his lungs.

So yeah, it's a feeling.

So, the other night I had a dream about sorority girls. (No, not that kind of dream-- that's not how I roll.) Anyway, these sorority girls were trying to induct me into their sorority. And I kept protesting, saying things like, "Nooo! I value individuality! I like who I am!" But they were like the body snatchers, these sorority girls, and they wouldn't take no for an answer. Considering that most of my dreams of late have featured various sinister characters trying to kill me with medieval weaponry, this was a welcome relief-- though no less bizarre.