Day 334-- Waiting, beneath the green apriocot tree

Saturday night, around 8:30pm, roommates downstairs smoking outside as we talk about former roommates, moving horror stories of packing and inevitably leaving behind the blender and the toaster (they never make it), bitching about those annoying kids on our street ("Douch kid number 1") who throw footballs near our cars, and how hard it is being an adult with all those pesky responsibilities like doing dishes, feeding ourselves three items again, paying for gas, ect.  We've been talking for about 2 hours and I've finally come from the cold.

I told them today that I will be leaving when my lease is up in July and most probably moving to Oregon where the jobs are plentiful and grad schools are located.  It has never felt more real than it did talking to them.  But I can't wait here another year to see if maybe I can find better work, and culture-wise it would be smart to be around fellow writers and activists and artists.

Lately I have wondered if my boyfriend is right, that I could have made it work here if I wanted it to, if I had make friends with these girls, if I had a job I respected, if I had been open-minded.  And I guess the answer is a tentative no.  To find the work I'm looking for and the people I'm looking for...well, it might be in a small niche of San Diego but I think I need a bigger community.

I'm not ready to move, not ready to stay.

Not ready to move, not ready to stay.

I've been on the phone with about a half dozen old friends and old co-workers lately, which has been a healthy dose of perspective.  Some are still having the same old problem, throwing a coffee table at a cheating ex included, and some are being promoted and thinking of starting their own businesses.  In contrast I feel like I'm not doing much. I can talk about my birthday or about "the twentysomething college grad", but I don't have much going on.  Not too many stories to tell.

...

I think I'm waiting for a feeling.  An alignment.