This is what I looked like on December 19, 2008.

This is what I looked like on April 2, 2010, the last time my hair was of this length.

And this is what I look like today.

My hair does seem to be the same length as it was some four months ago. Has my face changed? Do I look older, wiser? More caffeinated? More handsomest?

Please say yes. I drink these gloriously poisonous cups of coffee to burn through another day, to pay my way to some brighter future one bit of liver health at a time. Two years have passed, and forever, and what can I trust but that my face ages gracefully?
Another cup of coffee, please.

We have been blowing between crisp, bright days and incessant rain and gray, with plenty of wind throughout either option. Natalie and I found ourselves, one afternoon, at an intersection of hundreds of crows, perched in trees and on houses and lawns and tossed up in black cawing whorls by the blustery wind. And it was bright that day and the crows were magic, but then last Thursday and Friday we had thunder and lightning and hail and that was a totally different magic. I can't say that I'm certain what you're trying to tell me, Seattle, but I think I'll just continue with my present plan. I am leaving and I might have a few matters to which to attend?

• Find proper home for Sparkle Motion, my 2006 Honda Civic
• Find proper home for beautifully framed art, especially "Stormo Serale" by Natale Addamiano
• Empty my filing cabinet of what I am sure are useless papers and then
• Get rid of my filing cabinet, couch, and other furniture
• Go home for Thanksgiving
• Buy Christmas presents
• Keep working and making money
• Convince Sarah (and me, for that matter) that everything is still going to be amazing, even if we aren't living together
• Drink Americanos
• Pack
• Turn 28 years old... or young... or just right
• Say goodbye or, rather, see you later

One can imagine, perhaps, why I have not been moving quickly on all these matters? And one can imagine that this list is not complete. What am I doing with my life? I cannot say for certain and I suppose that is why I am leaving. Winter is on its way, and everything will change with this season. Don't fall yet, leaves! Cling to your branch just a little longer and let me get in one more cup of coffee.

Showered, breakfasted, and happily outfitted, I spent the morning at Victrola. The Americano was delicious, as always, and one of the baristas called me 'Dapper Dan.' Silly! My name is Drew (sort of), not Dan! But I'll take the Dapper anyway. I worked on a fun project and I worked on real (read: paying) projects and I tore through my email, with a particular focus on securing a house for January in Panama. There may have been a chocolate orange cookie in there at some point for refueling.

Did I mention that I can walk now? I've been over a week without crutches but, regardless, the Victrola staff felt inspired to congratulate me on my mobility and normal walking. More sun shining on me!

And then I needed a change of scenery. So I walked down the hill to the park and, without guilt, parked myself in a bench for a lovely, leisurely phone call with a friend. Of course! Why not? It's the 9/9/09, and I'm wearing a tie! I can do whatever I want!

I proceeded to lunch at Oddfellows, ordering a ham, cheddar, and tomato panini. When the cashier asked me if I wanted a beverage, I knew I didn't need more coffee yet so was content to stick with water. But why go content when you can go big? So I had an Abbey Leffe Belgian blonde beer with my lunch, sitting in the sun by the open windows and reading up more on Panamian surf.

I suppose I kept working after the lunch, and I suppose I had another Americano? Seriously, I was actually productive, even with the beer. I was satisfied just after 5pm and closed up shop (read: closed my laptop). I headed back to the park bench for another lovely and leisurely chat, this time with my sister, Nicole, far off in Boston.

I reached home, eventually, invigorated by the walk in warm breezes. I itched for activity but didn't even stop to yearn for an impossible distance run. I changed right into my board shorts and drove to Madison Park. Ankle be damned! Setting sun, you can suck it, too! I went swimming, sharing the rather cold Lake Washington with only two others, both of whom were training in swim caps, goggles, and triathlon wetsuits. WIMPS. I totally looked more hardcore than they did, what with my shivering bare torso and numb feet. But truly, my body was exultant in exhaustion… yeah, and also super duper cold.

So I made soup. Because I'm so good at life! When you're cold, and your roommate brings home limes from Labor Day, you make coconut curry lime vegetable soup, or that's what I've heard. And I improvised some coconut curry lime chili chicken that came out bangin' as well. And now I'm in bed and full of delicious food, and I'm totally going to go to sleep and dream about high-fiving Obama and baking cookies with Jenny Lewis. But I won't remember the dreams in the morning: I'll be way too excited for my next cup of coffee.

Drew d'Avis has, a few rare times, visited Hamilton but lives more comfortably in Seattle. Drew may or may not have a queen size bed in Seattle—a bed with a mattress into which he sinks, really actually sinks. Apparently, sinking is a positive factor for actually sleeping.

And Carlos d'Avis? Carlos d'Avis never sleeps. (Kind of like Samara, but with less crawling through televisions and living in wells and more working late at night.)

Where am I? Where am I supposed to be? I am certainly, at this very moment—whether or not I can fall asleep—quite right to be in Massachusetts. Today, as previously mentioned, is Christmas Day. I belong with my family: my mother Melanie, my father Federico, my sister Nicole, and her fiancé Mark. Today is a day of joy and celebration and generosity and I cannot help but share it with these people most important. Especially when this joy and celebration and generosity takes the shape of a llama.

…Pay no attention to the previous statement. Right. Moving on.

Truly, I must admit that my heart resides in Hamilton. I must admit that for as long as I have been me, I have been Andrew. But my life, my life is not here, and I do not particularly yearn for it to be so. However rickety or uncertain matters stand, I live in Seattle—I am attached to a gloriously soft bed with certain Northwest address. I am attached to sub-par Mexican food and rainy days and organic farmers' markets and unparalleled local beer and coffee.

I promised my sister that if or when she has children, I would return to Massachusetts. How could I not be part of their lives? Nicole and Mark will be married in February in Oaxaca and, while I do not suspect B will follow A immediately, the future looms all the same. How can I weigh my choices, and the costs and benefits? I must likewise admit that my life is not perfect in Seattle, and I am not perfectly happy, but still I balk so strongly when I consider leaving the West Coast.

But you just don't understand, I plead, life is just… different out there. Um, better. The sushi. THE SUSHI.

Who can say what is better or best? Who can say whom I will meet—what changes I will see—to inform these decisions more strongly? Regardless, the sky lightens out my window and the wind continues to shake the trees. Seven o'clock nears and any chance of sleep dwindles.

And no matter my grogginess, I will soon be celebrating Christmas with my lovely family. My father will brew coffee and, no matter its inferiority to Victrola Americano, I will nurse mug after mug and smile and laugh and love my life.

Happy Hanukkah, Merry Christmas, and/or Joy and Peace and Love in whatever you believe. All my best to you and yours, truly. Unless you actually slept last night: I loathe you. Right.

Also, I cut my hair.

I am somewhat sorry to report that this independence ended with my time at NeonGecko and, specifically, in our office at the Smith Tower. Our boss initially supplied a loaded Starbucks card for the ubiquitous caffeine depository located at the base of said tower. Every morning, around 10:30, Dave and I (and Dana, before her departure) would hitch an elevator down for our morning fix. The coffee was free to me, accessible and woke me up for productivity. Why not? Oh, right, and cute baristas calling me "honey" and "sweetie" are not a bad thing. Joy.

Eventually, our NeonGecko office inherited a Jura Capresso Impressa Z5 from the TableAndHome offices. Decent espresso and Americano were now at my fingertips, still at no cost to me save a button push and regular water refills. My coffee consumption rose sharply (OH NO) and interaction with cute baristas fell precipitously (DOUBLE OH NO). Oh, right, and I was then free to eat far too much lunch because I could caffeineate (not a real word*) my way through afternoon food coma. Joy.

Now, I've had a persistent cough and nasal congestion for a week weeks. I could not think that coffee helped this condition and I, therefore, reduced my consumption to one cup per day. I substituted herbal tea as well as green tea, its mild caffeine a pleasant bump but not an addictive rocket boost. Some days, I even eschewed coffee completely. Victory. Joy.

Except I didn't get any healthier. Still have not.

And this last Monday morning, and every morning since, I've willingly, happily, gone back to spending my own hard-earned dollar dollar bills on a daily fix. On what wind did change fly into my life?

The answers are bus routes and art. Still confused? I'll explain more soon…

*"Verbing weirds language."