I’m in a very strange place right now. I accepted a job offer that requires me to move from Southern California, where I’ve lived my entire life, to Seattle, a city I’ve never been to. I’m excited and nervous and anxious and scared, and I know that there are several sacrifices I’ll need to make in the coming months. I’ll need to sacrifice sunlight for full-spectrum interior lighting. I’ll need to sacrifice the comfort of living in a city I’ve grown to love for the adventure of turning a new place into my home. I’ll need to sacrifice the 45-minute drive to my parents’ house for a 3-hour plane ride. And while I won’t sacrifice the actual friendships I’ve made in LA, I’ll need to set aside room for new ones.
I feel as though I’ve been turned inside out. I was once rather emotionally guarded, but in the past several weeks I’ve been more affected by my feelings than ever before. I think it’s because I consciously made the decision to not leave Los Angeles with any regrets. While in the past I might ignore a new friendship because I was content with those I already had, I now find myself pursuing new relationships in order to make the most of the limited time I have left here. Does this make sense? Logically I don’t think it does. Logistically it certainly doesn’t. And to be honest it might not make much emotional sense either, since the stronger a relationship I cultivate here the more I have to leave behind. But at the same time I want to have something to leave behind. I want to know that, in the 23 years I’ve spent living in LA, I’ve created something that can’t fit in a moving van.
I also want to have something to come back to.
Is this selfish? Maybe it is. It probably seems like it. But I’d like to think that with every new relationship I form I’m giving a gift as equally valuable as the one I’m receiving. If I’m not, then I’m sorry. But I’d rather spend a few amazing hours with a new acquaintance than regret the missed opportunity.
Right now I feel like “Inside Out” by Britney Spears. Not lyrically, since the song is about break-up sex. What I mean to say is I feel like how “Inside Out” feels. I feel like there’s a discordant crash on every second count. I feel like there’s a slow, steady, half-time snare keeping the rhythm. And I feel like there are reassuring clicks before the chorus.
Jive Records, 2011