Can you figure out what I'm about to say based on that title? Let me clear it up, I'm coming back to Boston. This will require a lot of explaining but I'm going to give it my best shot. I've always wanted to live out west, since I was 19 and first tasted the mist of the Pacific ocean on my lips and In and Out burger filled my belly. I longed for the west coast, thinking it was the answer to all the things I didn't understand while in Boston. Since the tender age of 19 I've visited the west coast roughly ten times (I honestly thinks it's more but we'll round down). Each one of those ten visits were at least a week, a couple were 2 weeks and one was for 7 weeks. That's 17 weeks of sunny days and palm trees (not counting this trip). What have I learned in that accumulated amount of time? Tons of shit; Disney is great, weather is always perfect, Hollywood reins supreme, amazing food, fun shit to do and chill people for the most part. What is it missing? My heart. I set off on this journey with an important goal, find myself and start a new chapter. On the trip I experienced crippling loneliness, fear, excitement, hungover from boot juice (side note: when the word juice is used to describe anything but juice itself, it's pretty gross), long hours, crappy hotels, beautiful views,  great food and lifelong memories. When I got to Vegas the idea of being in California kind of started to lose its luster. The second I pulled up to Santa Monica something felt way off. I put on a fake smile and breathed a sigh of relief that I made it, alone. A few days went by, staying with friends, AirBnBs, doing some fun stuff and exploring. But that feeling was still there. That empty hole. What the hell was it? Am I homesick? Of course. Am I scared? A little but it's not that. What the fuck is wrong?! I made it! To the beautiful west coast! Then something hit me. I don't want this. That creeping feeling inside me is my gut telling me I'm not home. Well Matt you've only been here a week, you have to give it more time than that. Great point, I need to get into a groove, make some new friends and welcome the challenge, this is what you always wanted. Or is it? California (sorry, I know I'm saying that too much) was that girl I always admired from afar, building her up in my head to be perfect but never giving it a real effort. Time passed and I grew into a different person. Then one day I got the courage to ask her out and she wasn't those things I built her up to be. There was no chemistry or butterflies. Maybe the goodnight kiss will change my mind, lips prepped, I leaned in and we connected. Nothing. No fireworks, no lightning storms in my pants, no goosebumps or butterflies (god I sound like a pussy, but a romantic pussy right?). She's not for me, should  we try dating a few months? Should we get engaged and have some kids, maybe it will change. No, I will not. When you know, you know. I'm a 32 year old man who knows exactly who he is, what he loves and what makes him happy. Sadly, I know deep down in my gut that it's not here (California). My heart will always be floating in the filthy water of the Charles River. It's not perfect but it's my home and always will be. "Matt! give it a chance." This is my decision and I'm going to make the best move for myself. I could stay in Cali, start a new life and maybe it will be great but I won't have my family or closest friends. Sure, I have some amazing friends out here but they have their own lives so they don't need old Matty around. I'm not running away because I'm scared, I'm leaving because I know this will never be a home that makes me happy. This decision was a hard one but when I made it, it feels right. I'm going to have a pile of people ecstatic upon my return and some people who will label me a coward or failure, so be it. I braved a storm to get myself here and figured out who I was at my core, I'd call that a victory. Do you know who the fuck you are? It's hard to see sometimes and most people never figure it out.  I have not given up my dreams of being a professional writer, I'm just going to do it in a place I want to be. I want to follow my dreams in a place where I can wrap my arms around my parents any time I want. I want to spin words on the page where the Bruins are in my backyard and the Citgo sign stands tall in the distance. I want four seasons, my best friends and as far as my dreams? I just need a laptop and some readers (psst, that's you guys) and this blog will continue as a start my new chapter. That chapter will be in New England, where this Boston Boy belongs. To everyone who has supported me, thank you. To everyone mocking my quick return, eat shit. I'll be back in a week if you want to grab a drink and talk about my adventure.


Now Matt, What the hell else have you been up to since you decided to run back home like a bitch (kidding, I'm proud of this decision). Friday night I met up with Chris, Hillary, a solid crew of Boston fans and a late coming Smithy to see the Bruins take on the Ducks at the Honda Center in Anaheim (this looks an awful lot like a run on sentence, we're gonna leave it). The game was a blast, for Ducks fans.



Our "we're getting our balls stomped by Ducks" faces

The Bruins got smoked 4-0 and Chara lost a fight. The tickets were on the house, as were the beers and some cash was strangely handed to me from new friends. Perhaps a welcome to California gift (oops, still keeping it).


We filed out after the loss and headed back to Lakewood to grab food. I campaigned Deltaco and got my wish. Four chicken soft tacos and two grilled chicken burritos later I was a happy camper. Then we went back to Chris' place to watch "Goon" since we were in a hockey mood.


A pile of beers later we all decided to crash. Chris blew up a massive air mattress for me and managed to squeeze it into his bedroom (not sure why). The air mattress covered all the empty space of the floor and was the same hight as Chris and Hillary's bed. Essentially  we were all in one large bed, kinda weird but fuck it. After only sleeping a couple hours an alarm with nursery rhyme type music kept going off from one of their phones. It was driving me insane so I made my way to the living room couch. It was on that couch I made the decision to come home. I broke the news to Chris in the morning. He was kind enough to get me a job and offer me a place to live in his new house. I had to later turn down both, he understood and chuckled. "You gotta do what's right for you" he said. Saturday I headed to Ben's place (my home for the next and last week in California). Ben Riquel made a deal with me, I can stay as long as I help them wash their carpet. I'm an expert carpet cleaner so it's a natural choice to ask me. Actually I've never cleaned a carpet in my life but I look good operating machinery so let's do this.


We handled that dirty carpet hen grabbed tasty middle eastern food for lunch. At least I think it was middle eastern? Chicken Kabob with hummus, rice and garlic sauce (pretty damn good). After that I narrowly escaped a panic attack at Costco while Ben and Riquel did some shopping. While at Costco I noticed the name of the employee of the month, Kash Register. I SHIT YOU NOT! This man's name was Kash fucking Register. You know the thing that all grocery stores have? The machine that allows you to pay for your purchases, that's his god damn name. He's probably and alien and while he was applying for jobs he just saw a register and was like "the name is Register, Cash" "Sir spell Cash for me" "Oh I spell it with a K, give it a little more pop, now hire me human" I could do this bit for hours but it's a little too easy.

KASH REGISTER, employee of the month AND year, get it KASH!


We got back to the house then I grabbed an Uber to meet Rubin and his wife who had extra tickets to the Bruins/Kings game at the Staples center. Matt! Back to Back free hockey games and you still want to leave, yes I do. I know, I'm insane. Before the game I got to pick Brain's friend's brain about being a writer in Hollywood. He worked on Californication and is shopping new scripts around. He told me some of the horrors of being an assistant writer then being a staff writer. He was really nice and gave me a great glimpse into the life I've been working towards and he didn't sugar coat it one bit. I think it was something I really needed to hear. He told me it was basically dumping every idea you've ever had, every memory, joke and experience and handing them over with minimal to no credit and you're all out after two weeks. Fuck man, that's brutal. Maybe not for me? I never lived it so I can't know for sure but when someone says something tastes bad, I don't really feel the urge to snatch it from their hand and take a big bite. It was nice to hear that side of the business first hand though.

Our seats were incredible, private box, no beer or bathroom lines. It was a great night, minus the Bruins losing AGAIN! Three god damn losses on the Cali trip, guess we should all leave, right B's? B's? Hello? Wait for me!



My oldest hockey friend Brian Rubin, great dude.

After the game we all went home and crashed. That brings us to today, I woke up, watched American Ninja Warrior, started breaking the news to people that I'm coming home then got Krispy Kreme (raspberry filled glaze, lemon filled glaze and regular glazed) way too many doughnuts for one sitting but fuck it.


Also fruity Starbucks drink that's delicious.

Now I'm talking to you guys! Tonight I'm going to a live podcast in LA so that should be fun. I figured since this move turned into a vacation, I'm gonna make the best of it. Ticket home purchased, car transport set up, Boston, I shall be back. Thanks for reading folks!


See, I wasn't fucking around. Hope I can get my job back, better call Carl.

Keep Smiling (even when you're taking heat for a swift exit)


Someone I adore sent me this today, filled my icy heart with joy. Later gators.