The older I get, the more often I say "dude." I don't recall saying it when I was growing up-- despite living in the La-La-Land, beach culture of Los Angeles where we'd ditch school on the first warm day to lay in the sun on the beach (sorry, Mom and Dad; don't worry-- it only happened a couple of times, and at least it didn't affect my grades and I still got into a really good university??). But I do now-- and often.
I never thought I'd want to move back to California. I've lived away from the Golden State longer than I actually lived there (MUCH longer... more than two thirds of my life longer). I loved living in the Northeast-- I've often waxed poetic about how Vassar changed my life; how much I love NYC; how Chicago (and my friends there) rescued me, and I got to live in the probably what will be the nicest city location I'll ever be able to afford; how some of the most amazing people in my life I've met in these places. But now that I've ventured across an ocean, I find myself not only missing AMERICA-- but missing the California sun, and way of life, that is, apparently, in my bones. Believe me-- I'm as shocked as you.
I find myself making lists. Okay, so that's nothing super new-- I'm a pragmatic, risk-averse person. And I love my to-do lists (and my honey-do lists, much to MRN's chagrin). But these days they're lists of places to live, jobs to look for, things that I'll buy, dinners I'll make... all in CA, all with and for my family. It seems that my subconsciousness has become my consciousness.
It's the job that's elusive. It seems that being an adult means needing to make a living. And with a husband who's not an American and who works in an industry that doesn't exist in the US, it's all a little more complicated. Man, remember the days where I could just up and move to NYC/Chicago/ENGLAND?!? Things really do get harder when there's other people to consider (but oh, what a wonderful consideration it is).
California here I come... someday. For now, I guess I'll just be California Dreamin'.
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