My vagabond life

I grew up in a 4 bedroom house with a great front yard and back yard. By great, I mean, room to run and play as a kid. This is an important fact to point out because, having grown up in Southern California most people have barely a postage stamp they can call a front or back yard…and they’re lucky if they get two postage stamps as opposed to just one. My childhood, by no means easy, was a good one. I won’t get into the whoa is me’s of childhood, not really my point. My parents moved to Southern California from Connecticut before I was born. They were sick of the snow and cold, hard winters. My father’s parents and younger brother and his family moved out to Southern California as well. When my father was a child his family moved around a lot. He hated it and vowed never to do that to us. My parents haven’t moved from their house since they purchased it in 1973. Maybe like baldness, the desire to move constantly skips a generation.

While I enjoyed my life growing up in Southern California, and hey, who wouldn’t living just 20 minutes from the beach, I wanted out. Although in a major metropolitan area, I felt like I was stuck in this tiny world and I needed to get out. I wasn’t quite sure what I wanted to do or where I wanted to go or how in the hell I wanted to get out, but I knew I wanted out. First step was studying abroad at 21 in Paris for a semester. Yes, Paris, France. My first venture out of mom and dad’s home and I step off the plane into a city that’s filled with as much smoke as a hole in the wall bar on a Friday night, is grey in an almost melancholy way, as if even the city itself was annoyed with the world, has a subway system I couldn’t begin to understand (but every time I got on I thought of that Berlin song, riding on the metro-oh), and oh, I didn’t speak a word of their language, except oui, s’il vous plait, and bonjour. I never believed in love at first sight, until that moment. I loved Paris. Did I get homesick? Of course. But I’d never trade a second of my time there for anything in this world. I got to spend time in a city in a way many don’t. I became a local, in a way. I knew my way around the metro, I knew where the non-touristy places were to hang out, and I reveled in baguettes, cheese, and a bottle of wine for dinner at night (ok, maybe that was totally touristy but I was a starving student). I did completely random things like go see the Mighty Mighty Bosstones in concert; walk the Tuileries simply because it was a beautiful day; go to Chili’s with friends and get completely wasted on their version of Mike’s Hard Lemonade (maybe it WAS Mike’s Hard Lemonade, I honestly don’t remember) simply because it was hot and we were homesick.

After Paris I came back to California and I felt stuck, so, I did the totally logical thing and went to finish my bachelor’s degree at the University of Wyoming in Laramie, WY, population 27,000. Totally makes sense, right? I’ll never forget when I first drove into Laramie. I was with my parents and as we came into town off of 80 East we drive right through downtown and made a left heading toward campus. I remember looking at the downtown shops. The sky was the bluest blue I’d ever seen but everything around me seemed brown, not dirty, just brown, and everywhere I looked I saw, what I called giant Christmas trees. The downtown area seemed to be all at once stuck in the past and perfectly situated for the current time. That night we went to dinner and drove around a bit. My first question was, where’s the mall? Where’s the city? My parents laughed and said you picked this place. Again, homesick in the beginning, once I gave UW a shot, I made some amazing friends, many of whom I’m still in daily contact with and visit often. As with Paris, I don’t regret the decision to go to UW. I loved the football and basketball games, the parties, and as much as I complained about the work I loved learning and I can honestly say I wouldn’t be where I am today had I not gone to UW.

After UW I moved to Denver. My time there was miserable. I hated my job, hated my apartment, all my friends were a two hour drive away, I knew no one in Denver. Looking back I learned a lot while I was in Denver. I learned that friends don’t just show up on your doorstep, you have to get out and look for them. I learned that your life is what you make of it, and while I was in Denver I didn’t make much of it. I left Denver and went back to Southern California feeling like a failure. I was 24.

After a few years back in my parents house and getting my life together, I finally had the courage to make the one move I’d always dreamt of…moving to NYC. I was 27. Ok, so I never actually made it to NYC, but close, I’ve been in North Jersey for the past 7 years (with a side note work deviation back to Southern California for 6 months). I took what I’d learned in Denver and did everything in NJ the opposite of how I did things in Denver. I think it’s worked out quite well for me. I have a ridiculous amount of amazing friends that sometimes I think, if I’d never have moved here I’d never have known any of these people exist. And they’re so important in my life I can’t imagine not knowing they exist. I would not be who I am today without knowing each and every one of them.

I’m struggling a bit though right now. I put down roots in January when I purchased my first home. 9 months into it and I’m already thinking, where can I go? In my 7 years living here I’ve now moved (if you count the trip to and back from CA) 6 times. The reason I was in California for work was I was waiting for a VISA to go and work in Dubai. That VISA never came through, which is why I’m now back in NJ. It bothers me sometimes that I didn’t get the chance to work in Dubai. I really, really wanted to do it. I’ve always dreamt of working internationally. I’m trying to say there was a reason I didn’t go and it will one day show itself to me. But I was ready, when I left NJ, I was ready for what I thought was the next chapter in my vagabond life and it didn’t happen. I wonder sometimes, am I running from or running to something? I love my home, I love my friends, I love NJ, but I feel this pull for something else out there. I just am not quite sure yet what or where.