But...as a Metroplex, which includes Fort Worth and dozens of surrounding cities, it's the fourth largest in the country. It's almost like, See? Even though I'm number three, I'm number one. It depresses me.
Even Google Maps was taken aback by Dallas' ways. It was scrambling to tell me when to turn left or keep to the right, usually a moment after I needed to because even with me pulling my LA attitude I couldn't get in-between most drivers. Then it would yell at me and tell me the new route...5 times in 5 different ways.
I finished the packing job and went to drop the shipment off to be crated...but couldn't find the facility. No signage. I drove around for 5 minutes before finding a guy and asking him where the place was, and he directed me to an opening tween two warehouse buildings. Everyone was very nice and polite, but it's almost like they didn't want to be noticed or bothered or something, and I was interrupting their anonymity.
But everything is done, I made it back to my hotel, and I was so fucking exhausted I crashed. Slept. Made myself go out to a nearby Taco Cabana for an enchilada plate. 1.3 miles away only took 20 minutes to get to, and two wrong turns, thanks to rush hour traffic. Added to my depression.
At least I was smart enough not to dig into NWFO. When I'm in this kind of mood I just tear my work apart. I'm probably being too sensitive about it. Truth is, there are parts of what I've written that I'm really proud of. But that's immaterial to anyone who's in the creative arts. All it'd take is one comment to cut through the self-proclaimed joy and turn to hating your work.
Even Larry McMurtry apparently went through times where he did not like his writing.
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