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Our New Apartment: The Good, the Bad, & The(re Is No) Ugly

Wednesday, June 7, 2017

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We've now been in our new apartment for just a little bit more than a month, & it's safe to say that we love it. Did I mention that we signed a three-year lease?! It's so amazing to know that we're not moving again for awhile, that this is home - that we can just settle in & enjoy.

Here's a quick look at life in our new place.

The Good

  • The space: This apartment is bigger than our old one, including a giant living room & a very big kitchen, plus a basement where we can store some of our stuff. More on some of the specific spaces later, but suffice it to say it's nice to have more space, period.
  • The location: We're in the same neighborhood as before, an area we absolutely love, but now we're in a quieter, shadier part of town. Though there's more foot traffic, there's less car traffic, so it's closer to the action but also much quieter than our old place. Win/win! 
  • The sunlight: This place is so bright & sunny! Our old place was very dark, which was cozy but also sort of depressing. Now, I rarely have to turn on a light before it gets dark out, & it's just so pleasant inside.
  • The front porch: How amazing is it to be able to sit on a front porch with a book & a beer, enjoying the weather & watching the world go by? Really amazing, lemme tellya.
  • The lack of neighbors: We're in a duplex with neighbors above us & no one immediately on either side. It's pretty sound-proof, too, so we can really only hear the upstairs neighbors when they're walking heavily or playing loud music, which is rarely.
  • The laundry: We have an in-unit washer & dryer off our bedroom! Nothing makes me feel more like a boring adult than my level of enthusiasm about this development, but I'm not ashamed.
  • The air conditioning: Another top-notch element of the new space is the fact that it's fully summer-ready with central air, which is tied for The Best Thing™, given how sweaty I am.

Whew, that's a lot of stuff - but seriously, doesn't this place sound lovely? Of course, not everything can be perfect, so here are a few of the less-lovely elements of our new apartment - which, yes, we'll also be dealing with for the next three years:

The Bad

  • The bugs: 'Tis the season for gross bugs, especially since we're on the first floor & under some trees. Most distressing are the house centipedes, which I kill by trapping under a cup & flushing down the toilet. Cuz I'm a wuss.
  • The yard: Ugh, we have a yard. Other people would be pumped about this, but I'm not, mainly because we're responsible for maintaining it, & yard work is tops on my list of least favorite things to do in life.
  • The passersby: We're on the first floor and in the center of the neighborhood action, so it's sometimes awkward to have our windows open and/or our blinds up. Too close for comfort! 
  • The closets: There are only two of them, & man, are they small - but we're making do by paring down, staying organized, & using the basement for extra storage.
  • The distance to my favorite coffee shop: Look, this is a very whiny complaint because my go-to cafe is still only .5 miles away - but it used to be 20 steps away. Now I have to plan better if I want to grab coffee before a meeting. The horror! 
OK, so what about the really bad stuff? Well, where to start...

Just kidding. I'm comin' up empty on this one!There's literally nothing ugly to report, except maybe that I found a decaying bird skeleton underneath our back porch - but that's not the house's fault, now, is it?

In other words: We're happy here, & I'm happy to be happy here.

Tell me: What's the best/worst thing about wherever you live?
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A List of 31 Things to Do & Worry about Before You Move

Wednesday, April 26, 2017

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Look, everyone knows that moving is awful. I don't have to tell you that. But as I prepare for yet another move, I am again reminded that moving is awful.

Also, in the past, I've mostly moved into/out of apartment complexes, the kind that take care of the utilities for you so you don't have to call those companies yourself. Having to do so is an added layer of stress, for sure.

The good thing about all of this is that I've moved so many times that I know how to do this, & I am also comforted by the fact that, soon, the stress of moving will be over, & I will be moved - which is the best part of moving. I can't wait to settle into our new place, but in the beginning, here's how the last few days have looked. Sound familiar to any of you fellow frequent movers?! 
  1. Book movers for once because you're a real goddamn adult.
  2. Pack everything, obviously.
  3. Run to Target to buy more trash bags & packing tape.
  4. Continue packing everything.
  5. Sort of give up & just start throwing things into garbage bags.
  6. But make sure not to pack the cleaning supplies so you can clean the old place before you leave it.
  7. Load everything you've packed into one place so the movers have easy access.
  8. Make about a dozen trips to the trash.
  9. ...including throwing out your broken kitchen table & a massive rug.
  10. Load bags & boxes of giveaway items into your car to take to Goodwill.
  11. Take bags & boxes of giveaway items to Goodwill.
  12. Order cat carriers so you don't have to worry about an escaped feline mid-move.
  13. Call the gas company to transfer utilities.
  14. Panic because the gas company says they can't turn off your gas at the old place until a week after you've already moved out.
  15. Text your mother and your fiancé in a panic.
  16. Make an appointment within a four-hour window to wait for the gas company to come turn off service, figuring you'll sort it out later.
  17. Make an appointment within another four-hour window to wait for the gas company to come turn on service at the new place.
  18. Call the Internet service provider to transfer services.
  19. Call the electric company to transfer services.
  20. Call the new landlord to see when you can pick up the keys.
  21. Try to figure out how you'll pick up the keys at 9am if your movers are also arriving at 9am.
  22. Call the old landlord to see when you can do a walk-through of the old place.
  23. Feel really relieved when the old landlord says he'll have the gas service transferred into his name so you can cancel one of your appointments with the gas company.
  24. Try to change your address on the USPS website.
  25. Go to the post office in person because USPS doesn't recognize your new address.
  26. Email your neighbor to ask if your moving truck can use the driveway on moving day.
  27. Leave a note for your new neighbors to ask if your moving truck can use the driveway on moving day.
  28. Keep packing. 
  29. Stay up at night worrying about the details.
  30. Continue to stress out your significant other by sending frantic texts every time you think of a new potential complication.
  31. Hurry up & wait.
Did I mention that there's plenty of other life stuff going down right now, too? It's not like the world stops when you're getting ready to move! In the midst of all this, add the following:
  1. Confirm jury duty
  2. Confirm with your boss that you can't make your upcoming work trip to NYC because of said jury duty.
  3. Return your broken modem to your Internet service provider.
  4. Buy gifts for your fiancé's sister & cousin, who are graduating from college.
  5. Make a trip out of town for aforementioned graduation the day before moving.
Again: I know that the moving part will soon be over, & Mike & I will be settled into a place we already know we love. I just have to keep telling myself that it'll all be worth it. New place, we're comin' for ya, & I am about to relax so hard once this is all said & done.
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Spring Cleaning Inspired by the Perpetual Pursuit of Minimalism - & What's In My Way

Monday, April 10, 2017

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I read Marie Kondo's cult-favorite Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up last January, & like so many people, I had mixed feelings about it (which I wrote about back then). I found the author's tone deeply annoying & stilted, which I chalked up to a bad Japanese-to-English translating job, & some of her advice felt truly absurd. I'm never, for example, going to fold a perfect underwear drawer - but I did find some elements of her "tidy" lifestyle to be really appealing.

I've moved so many times that I don't have a ton of extra stuff, really. When you move approximately once a year, you learn pretty quickly to pare down your possessions, keeping only what matters - & yet, there always seems to be too much. Still. 

I have too many clothes, things I liked at the time of purchase but that don't fit me quite right or don't flatter me as well as I'd like & rarely get worn.

I have too many shoes, too, pairs that, as much as I like them, only come out of the closet when I want to switch it up from my usual go-to style - which, admittedly, isn't often.

I have too much food in my pantry, cans of stuff I probably won't make & don't even really like, & bags of quinoa & walnuts that I've over-purchased because I forget I've already got plenty.

I have too many tchotchkes on my shelves, items that don't necessarily make me happy & sometimes even annoy me just to look at, but they maintain their spots because, well, they go there, right?

I have too many books, ones I picked up at Little Free Libraries or library fundraisers, ones I'd like to read but will likely never get around to because they're not at the top of my list.

I have too many beauty items, Sephora samples that are probably already expired & expensive full-size products I got in subscription boxes but never even opened.

I'm not bad at getting rid of stuff - but I'm all too good at bringing in more stuff, at wanting & buying & recreating the problem all over again. It's hard on my shelves & on my wallet.

I have too much of everything, yet somehow, I catch myself wanting more. Why is that?

I've been thinking about it, & I think the answer, at least for me, is simple: Instagram.

When it's just me, in my home, looking around at my space, I recognize that I've got all I need - & sometimes more. But when I'm scrolling through social media, looking at all the beautiful ways other people have styled their lives? Their homes, their clothing, & their food, & even their damn bookshelves? That's when I start to want more than what I have, when I feel the urge to buy, buy, buy.

When I'm scrolling through Instagram or watching Insta-stories, I want lives that aren't mine. I want an apartment with more sunlight so I can take better photos. I want to eat tastier-looking food, own prettier home decor, wear more stylish clothes, learn to do my makeup better, organize my bookshelves in rainbow order... Of all the social media platforms, Instagram is my favorite, but it also makes it too damn easy to compare my life to others'. When I do that, I start to want things that are out of character for me - things I don't need, a life I don't need or even really want. A life with more stuff. "Better" stuff. Even as I'm trying to own less stuff!

The Jewish holiday of Passover starts tonight, & one of the traditions of in the lead-up to the holiday is, basically, spring cleaning - purging our homes of chametz, which literally means "leaven" but figuratively translates into anything oppressive in our personal environment. This times up nicely with my desire to do some good old spring cleaning anyway, & it feels especially pressing in advance of the big move.

So I'm throwing stuff out - & vowing not to replace it with a bunch of new crap that I'll eventually want to throw out, too. I will pursue minimalism, even if I know I'm always likely to be a person who likes & desires stuff. Passover is all about freedom, & in the modern day, that can be interpreted in lots of ways. For me, this year, the holiday is a reminder not to be beholden to my desire for more stuff, which is, in part, directly tied to my tendency to compare my life to the lives of others, especially those I can only see via the Internet.

In going through my belongings & trying to scale back, I keep telling myself: Life wasn't made to look good on the Internet. If it happens to look pretty on there, well, so be it - & I will keep trying for that because I enjoy it, within the confines of my normal, existing life. But I am not going to live for the likes, & I'm certainly not going to add more baggage to my life - literally - just so I can arrange it into a square shot for display on the Internet.

P.S.: Still wouldn't hate it if you wanted to follow me on Instagram. You can find me at @heyescapist.
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That Old Familiar Refrain: We're Moving Again!

Wednesday, April 5, 2017

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It was my deepest wish that when I finally moved to Cleveland, I would, like, never move again. And while it's true that I never plan to leave Cleveland, I've already moved twice since coming back to Ohio... & now it's about to happen again.

Long story short: Mike & I love our Tremont apartment, which is old & charming, with wood floors & strangely colored walls. We gladly would've glady stayed for awhile, & planned to - & then our friend Rick got transferred to California for work. 

Rick's apartment, which he only lived in for a few months, is the bottom half a duplex. It's chic, shiny, & newly renovated, with two bedrooms & an in-unit washer/dryer (which I've never had before & would basically die for). It's next door to a small park, across the street from one of my favorite restaurants, & caddy-corner from another great restaurant/coffee shop. It has a front porch & a small backyard. And best of all, the rent is almost exactly what we pay now.

Needless to say, it's perfect. And while we'd gladly stay where we are if it meant Rick hadn't moved across the country (j/k Rick, happy for you), this is a pretty perfect opportunity, & it just fell into our laps.

The great news - aside from the fact that the apartment itself is awesome - is that it's in the neighborhood we live in now, just a few blocks away from our current place. We can stay in Tremont, upgrade our place, maintain our rent costs, & wash our damn pants on our own timeframe, thankyouverymuch.

Want to hear something else kind of crazy? We signed a three-year lease. The rental company guarantees to keep our rent costs the same for the duration of our lease, so we figured, why not lock it in? We definitely don't want to move again... & now we don't have to. 

Look, I hate moving, but all things considered, I'm over the moon about this one. Did I mention that we'll have a spare bedroom? See you in Cleveland, suckahs. We're movin' on up.

(P.S.: These aren't my house keys, so creeps of the Internet, don't even bother trying to duplicate them so you can rob me.) 
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Surprise, Surprise: I'm Moving Again!

Friday, March 11, 2016

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Something exciting happened today: We got the keys to our new apartment.

Yes, you read that right. I'm moving again. I haven't even lived in my current (beloved) apartment for a year yet, but I'm already moving on to the next one. And in case you were going to ask, yes: I am thoroughly exhausted of moving, of never settling down, of being on the go.

Luckily, this move should be a lot easier than all the ones before it: I'm just moving to another unit in my building, which means there won't be any packing boxes or moving vans - just a lot of shlepping stuff back & forth on foot. The new space is very similar to where I am now, but it's a little bit better fit for my needs.

Or should I say our needs? Even though Mike has informally been living with me for the last six or seven months, he's been paying rent on his place back in Lakewood the whole time. That lease ends soon, & we're making it official!

The new apartment has a layout much like our current one, so it feels very familiar. I'd been inside it a few times when the previous tenants lived there (they moved to Costa Rica at the start of the year), so I have a good mental sense of how it looks when it's full of furniture & looks like a home, instead of just a big open space; because I'm not great at decor & spacial stuff, this is really helpful to me.

The apartment is about the same size as our current one, though the bedroom is a little bigger, the living room is a little smaller, & it has an outdoor deck.

I've wanted an outdoor space for so long, but it just hasn't been in the cards in any of the places I've lived (except my mom's house in the suburbs, obviously). That means I am really effing excited about this deck, where I plan to spend the majority of my time when the weather is nice. It's large & lovely & has a little peek of the downtown Cleveland skyline. I think we may even have a prime view of all those summer fireworks displays over Progressive Field.

We didn't really get the keys today: We have to give them back tomorrow, as the place is still being worked on. But we did get to go in, walk around, & envision our life in this new space. We'll actually move the week of the 21st - so it's happening soon!

As annoyed as I am to have to uproot myself, my life, & my living space yet again, I am, more than anything else, thrilled to be moving into a space that so perfectly suits us. I want to be there for a long, long time - & to be with Mike even longer. I can't wait for this next step together.
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Dear Mr. Postman...

Friday, October 9, 2015

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Two commonly known facts about me:
  1. My full name is Sara Kathryn, but no one calls me either of those, not even my mom. During my bat mitzvah training, I once asked my rabbi to stop using my full name because it made me feel like I was in trouble with God.
  2. I've moved a lot of times. I counted recently, when I made the move up to Cleveland, but I've already forgotten the number. More than 10 times in 10 years, I know that - & I know that I am tired of moving.
The combination of these two facts has historically meant that I have to fill out multiple change-of-address forms every time I move (which, again, is a lot) - one for me as Kate, one for me as Sara, one for me as Kathryn, & sometimes still one for me at Katy, in case I'm getting mail from 1999. It is A) is a pain in the butt, & B) $1 per submission, if I fill out the change-of-address forms online instead of in person, as is my preference.

But when I moved back to D.C. in the fall of 2013, I realized something exciting: I could label change-of-address form as a "family move" instead of an "individual move," ensuring that any mail with my last name on it would forward to my new address. Hello, extra six minutes of my life & extra $3 in my pockets!

That's what I did when I moved from my mom's house to Cleveland in July, except I forgot one little thing: My mom & I have the same last name.

One day, I came home to find a fat stack of mail stuffed into my typically near-empty mailbox. I usually get, like, one piece of mail a day - & three out of six days, it's junk - so this was more than a little unusual. As I thumbed through the envelopes, I realized: These are all for my mom. What happe... Oh. Oh, shit.

That's right. In signing myself up for a "family move" so I could skip a few forms & keep a few bucks, I accidentally "moved" my mom, too. She's been at the same address in the suburbs for 28 years, & suddenly, all of her utilities & bills were rubber-banded in a rusty little mailbox in Cleveland, bright yellow forwarding stickers affixed to each envelope like a beacon.

For three weeks, I had to bring my mom a huge stack of mail every time I came home. Even after I stopped the forwarding service & switched her back to her "old" address, I kept getting her mail - & I continue to, because her electric company, which lists her correct address on the bill, now lists mine on the envelope. Damn you, "return service requested" feature.

Today, while visiting my mom, I retrieved her mail (because she's so forgetful about it that a neighbor once stopped over to make sure she was, like, alive). Her mailbox was once against bursting at its seams with mail that so rightfully belongs to her...

...& somehow, after all of that, at least five envelopes that belong to me.

Now, it seems, I get Sara's mail in Cleveland, & I get Kate's mail in Cuyahoga Falls, & thank God it's only a 40-minute drive & that I'm coming home every Thursday to watch Grey's Anatomy with my mom, I guess, because somehow, I am less efficient than the United States Postal Service. And that? Is one depressing sentence.
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In Which I Doubt Whether Cleveland Is Actually the Right City for Me

Saturday, June 6, 2015

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There was a nasty little period of time upon my return to Ohio that I began to worry that I didn't actually like Cleveland at all. In fact, I secretly confessed to one friend, I had briefly become concerned that I hated it.

I know, I know, this sounds crazy. Any longtime friend or reader of this blog knows that my Buckeye State pride is evident in, like, every other post & that I always expected I'd eventually flee to the Cleve. But when I got back to Northeast Ohio - living about 45 minutes away from Cleveland itself - I realized that I don't actually, well, know anything about this city I claimed to have come back for.

"What do you like best about Cleveland?" people asked, & I couldn't answer in specifics beyond some vague sense of camaraderie & that Midwestern feel that I'd missed. "What part of the city do you want to live in?" they wanted to know, & I had no idea because I didn't know any parts of the city. The more questions I got, the fewer answers I had. An afternoon spent in the popular Ohio City neighborhood, which I was alarmed to find seemed more like the suburbs & less like the city, only deepened my sudden concerns. And then, when I started looking or apartments & found that my only options seemed to be suburban duplexes or $1,500-a-month studios (hello, more-than-my-D.C.-rent), I started to to panic: Did I even like Cleveland at all?

Since then, I've started spending more time in Cleveland, something I hadn't actually done much of because I didn't have anything to do here (or anyone to do it with). It helps that I recently started dating someone who lives in Lakewood, a suburb (he doesn't like when I call it that) just a few minutes outside the city. Spending time with him has given me the opportunity to spend some low-key, no-pressure time in Cleveland, without spazzing about whether or not it's the perfect place for me - & increasingly, blessedly, I feel like it is.

I'm starting to better understand that Midwestern cities (save maybe Chicago) are just not the same as East Coast cities, & as it turns out, I had accidentally become a bit of an East Coast snob. After seven years of living in D.C. & then just outside Boston & New York, my understanding of what cities "should" be like is based on concepts that are... just a little bit different than the reality here, what with all the driving & the lack of public transportation & the neighborhoods that feel, to me, like clusters of suburbs. It doesn't mean Midwestern cities are worse than East Coast cities, though I'm sure some other East Coast snobs will disagree - it just means that Cleveland is, in fact, a bit a mental adjustment for me. It's a different way of life, a different kind of city life.

But it's going to be my city life, one of these days here soon, & I am relieved to have been able to spend some time here to alleviate my sudden panic. I am where I'm supposed to be. In CLE I trust.
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Top This, 2015: A Quick Look Back at 2014's Notable Moments

Tuesday, January 6, 2015

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I know we're already a few days into 2015, but let's pause for a moment, shall we? I'd like to dedicate this post to our dearly departed friend, 2014, for a quick look back at a few of the most memorable happenings within its 365-day span. Here goes.

***

I rang in 2014 in Philadelphia with my then-boyfriend & his family, throwing a handful of confetti that a stranger gave us just after midnight, & later I returned to my new apartment, lonely but hopeful.

I broke up with said boyfriend of 3.5 years, something I neither announced on the blog nor elsewhere because it was painful & personal, & contrary to public belief, I do not actually share everything online.
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In Which I Short-Circuit & Basically Stop Functioning

Tuesday, November 18, 2014

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T minus four days until my big move back to Ohio, & I'm... not quite ready. My mental to-do list is about a mile long, but I am too disorganized to get it on paper, or even into my phone, so it's just floating around in my brain. I have to sell my couch & throw away my rickety bookshelf & take some things to Goodwill & put a stop on my Comcast service... it's all bumping around in my skull, & I'm just hoping I don't miss something major.

I'm historically terrible at dealing with moving-related anxiety, despite the fact that this will be my thirteenth (!) move in a decade. On that front, this time around is no different, although there's some small comfort in moving back to my mom's house because I don't have to deal with apartment arrangements on the other end. Actually, that's a large comfort. But it's still not stemming the standard panic.

The way I deal with this sort of stress is basically just to shut down. I haven't been engaging on social media. I removed Facebook & my work email from my phone. When the workday ends, I don't multi-task like usual; instead of writing or working while I catch up on Hulu, I just... zone out. I go catatonic in front of the TV, like a very comfortable zombie or maybe just a child of the early '90s, drooling & mindlessly stuffing my gullet full of Annie's Cheddar Bunnies while wearing my oldest, rattiest pair of sweatpants. It's a lovely, professional, & flattering image, I know.

I'm just trying to be good to myself, & sometimes that means powering my brain down with a fist (& mouth) full of organic, cheese-flavored snacks.

And I nap. I take longer showers. I drink larger lattes. I listen to a lot of Taylor Swift. I take Xanax sometimes, or I turn on my favorite meditation app. I spent an embarrassing amount of money on a 124-oz. candle that smells like something unidentifiably comforting from my childhood, & any time I'm home, it's burning. I bought a coloring book & a box of 64 crayons for those times when I feel compelled to keep busy while I watch TV but just can't bring myself to use any brain power. (It's a Lalaloopsy coloring book, by the way, which is just about the creepiest thing imaginable.)

In general, I'm just trying not to overexert myself to add additional stress to my move-induced stress. When I've settled in Ohio, I'll even out, I'm sure, become my usual multi-tasking, firing-on-all-cylinders self again. But... not yet. Just not yet. Right now, I'm just trying to maintain my sanity, & that seems to mean powering down all non-essential functions.

Treat yo'self, as they say. Or just do whatever it takes to try to keep yourself from losing your damn marbles.
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You Can Always Go Home Again: My LeBron Moment

Wednesday, November 5, 2014

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On my last day of classes at Kent State University in August of 2007, I sat in a corner of the Daily Kent Stater's newsroom, looking out the wall of full-length glass windows to the grassy hill outside. It was a sunny day, Ohio-perfect, & I was fully conscious of the fact that this was my last time to enjoy this part of my life. This was it, & I wanted to enjoy it as much as I could.

On the phone with my mom, sitting on my knees on a spinning chair as I watched students pass by outside, I told her: "I'm going to D.C. for a year, & then I'm going to come back to Ohio." I'd committed to a 12-month job in D.C., but I imagined grand plans for a life in Cleveland when it came to an end.

As much as I meant it at the time, that's not exaaaactly how it all ended up. At the end of that first year in D.C., I was offered a more permanent job - so I stayed, happily, & it was a fantastic three years of growth & friendship & learning to love myself. Eventually, I hit a bit of a rough patch (read: I quit my job & couldn't afford to stay), so I did move back to Ohio, but just for a brief four months. At the time, I was dating someone wonderful who just so happened to live in New Hampshire, mandated by the U.S. Coast Guard, so I found a job there & moved in with him. Then we moved again, also mandated by the Coast Guard, & then, when we eventually broke up, I moved back to D.C. because it seemed like the best place for me to be if I was going to be by myself again. Needless to say, I never really made it back to Ohio.

"You've moved a lot," people often tell me, out of sheer insistence upon stating the obvious. Yeah, guys, I know. I know.

I've moved a lot, & it hasn't always been easy or wonderful & it certainly wasn't part of my plan, but I don't regret my life or my choices or my locations. Still, I've always said I'd move back to Ohio "when the time is right." I've always known I'd go back eventually because I've always wanted to go back eventually. I returned to D.C. last November because I had an inexplicable sense that it was the place I needed to be at that time. From the outset, though, I knew this would a time-limited return to the District. I just hadn't decided exactly how limited that amount of time would be.

I still hadn't decided, right up until last month.

Last month, I spent two weeks visiting friends & family in Ohio, mentally planning my eventual return & what a life in Cleveland might look like for some future version of me. And then one weekday afternoon, as I was driving back to my mom's house after an afternoon at my favorite coffee shop in Kent, it dawned on me, one of those lightbulb-above-my-head kind of moments: "I could move back to Northeast Ohio right now, if I wanted to."

And as it turns out, I wanted to. I want to.

In a decree of fate, I returned to D.C. later that week to find that my rent will go up by $100 at the end of November, when my lease expires. Sure, I could stay here on a month-to-month basis, paying that higher rent & not saving a damn thing, but... why? Why bother? It's expensive here, so expensive that I can't afford to do most of the things that would allow me to enjoy my life here the way that life here ought to be enjoyed. And while I love my friends & my office & my life in D.C., the simple counter-argument against living here is just that Ohio beckons. Because Ohio has always beckoned.

So on November 21st, I'm going home.

The details don't matter; trust that I'll share them with you eventually. For now, all that matters is that this feels right. For the first time since I moved to D.C. in 2007, I'm moving because I want to, not because I feel like I have to. I'm not unemployed or bound to the military or in the middle of a breakup. I just want to be someplace else - so I'm going there.

An unexpectedly wise man from Akron once said, "In Northeast Ohio, nothing is given. Everything is earned. You work for what you have." And like LeBron, "I’m ready to accept the challenge. I’m coming home."
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No (Wo)man is an Island

Saturday, November 30, 2013

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This was a weird time to move back to Washington, D.C. By Monday, when I was finally settled enough to want to see people, there weren't many people in town to be seen, thanks to the fast-approaching holiday. I had drinks in Adam's Morgan with newlywed friends that first night & grilled cheese sandwiches at Tryst with another friend on Tuesday, & I worked from my old office all three days before the long weekend, so there were familiar faces to be seen & Starbucks-&-gossip breaks to be taken.

Still, it's been feeling more like a vacation & less like a relocation. Holiday travel has kept me from seeing many of my closest local friends, & to top it off, this week revealed some annoying (though ultimately meaningless) gossip about me that left me feeling like a lepery loser. Dramatic as it sounds, that nasty combination of social barriers resulted in my spending a large portion of my first days back wondering whether I have any friends here at all. More than once, I spiraled into a dangerous mental rabbit hole: "Why did I come here? Does anyone love me? Guess I'll go eat worms. I made the worst decision ever." (I told you it was a little dramatic, but transitions are difficult, OK? And I am a fragile flower.)

But then I start thinking of all the people who helped me get here, all the friends who went out of their way to be friends to me - people near & far who reached out to me in a billion different ways, letting me know they cared about me & supported me & were rooting for me. How dare I lament the absence of friendship in my life, when the last two months have shown me that I have more people in my corner than I'd ever realized?

And so, in the slightly belated spirit of Thanksgiving - & to remind myself of all the incredible people who grace my life - I want to take a minute to thank you.

Yes, you.

You, who said to me in passing, "You're an adventurer," & believed without an iota of doubt that it was true, even when I didn't.

You, who helped me look for apartments & furniture, who answered all my questions & addressed all my anxiety-driven worries, who painted a picture for me of what life could be like upon my return.

You, who recently decided your life's calling was to travel the world & who reminded me, whenever I thought I wasn't strong enough, that I, too, was brave enough to make big changes.

You, who broke up with your longtime girlfriend & struggled to regain your sense of self, who reassured me that I, too, could strike out on my own and not just survive but flourish.

You, who talked me down from the scariest panic attack of my life, who reminded me that we all go through periods of upheaval & that I just had to make it through today.

You, who checked in with me by phone or by text or by Gchat or by email, nearly every single day for a month, to be sure I wasn't falling apart like I continuously threatened to.

You, who I hardly know but who has a knack for taking care of strangers in need, who taught me the power of meditation & drinking games & relentless belief in myself.

You, who were worried by the tone of my vague tweets & sent me a private message to be sure I was doing OK, to offer support & suggestions.

You, who read my blog post announcing the move & sent me an email of support & concern, despite the fact that we hardly know one another.

You, who checked in periodically to ask, "Are you here yet?" & who offered to to help me shlep furniture in your SUV and bring over burgers & beer after I got settled.

You, who brought over bananas & and Pop Tarts & a block of cheese on my first day alone in my new apartment to tide me over until I could make it to a grocery store.

You, who organized a dinner with our mutual friends on my first night back so I wouldn't sit alone, wallowing, & who followed up when I tried to ignore the invitation to, well, wallow.

You, who took me out for drinks & offered me your old pots & pans to populate my empty kitchen cabinets, who invited me over for beer & friendship & cable & continued support.

You, who whispered to me in quiet, sincere confidence after my first two days in the office, "I don't know if I've told you how glad I am that you're back."

There are so many of you: you who left a comment on my blog post; you who sent me a quick text of good luck; you who reached out to make return plans or just to welcome me back. You - all of you - who reminded me that you care about me & that I am strong & that change can be positive.

On Sunday, I'll return to D.C. after a long weekend with friends in Virginia, & my social calendar will be waiting for me, more populated than its been in a long, long time. There are Hanukkah parties to attend, drinks to be drunk, movies to be watched, & lunches to be eaten, all with people whose presence & friendship enriches & brightens my life immeasurably.

Today, when I changed my Facebook profile to reflect my move & pressed "save," this is what it showed me:


Eighty-seven people in the District who I know & presumably love, plus countless others afar. How dare I feel lonely or alone for even a minute?
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There's No Place Like Wherever it is I'm Looking For

Friday, November 22, 2013

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I remember the night before I left for college, crying in the driveway of my childhood home while my mom hugged me close & kissed my hair & told me it would be all right. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t stop the tears, couldn’t fathom a life in which I did not live in Cuyahoga Falls, Ohio, like I always had; I couldn’t imagine being away from the people & places that had made up my entire 18 years. My boyfriend, Dave, showed up to help me pack, but when he reached the foot of the driveway & saw us standing there in that moment of raw emotion, he turned & left & came back after I’d calmed down.

Oddly, I have almost no memories whatsoever of the day in my junior year when I left Ohio University to transfer to Kent State. I know that no one came to help me move & no one was there to say goodbye, either, because I didn’t have a lot of friends by that point. I know that I cried alone in my car as the little town of Athens faded behind me, certain I would never return to it. What I do remember, vividly, is the phone conversation with my mother in which I decided to transfer – screaming & crying & heaving & hyperventilating, telling her I couldn’t & shouldn’t & wouldn’t, & then ultimately deciding to forget ahead & do it anyway.

I remember the day I moved to Maryland, less than 24 hours after commencement, to start an exciting new job in Washington, D.C. My mom & my aunt loaded all my belongings into my Honda Civic & my aunt’s minivan van, & together we made the seven-hour drive to my new, sight-unseen home, a condo I’d found through the short-lived Facebook Marketplace. I held it together while they helped me move in, & as soon as they drove away, their van just out of sight, I opened the floodgates & spent my first two hours in the Old Line State crying alone on my bedroom floor. As excited as I was for the new beginning, I was also terrified for it. (I only made it three months in Maryland before upgrading to a studio apartment in the city, just a block away from the National Zoo, in a move that was far less traumatic & emotional than any of my others before or after)

I remember the day, three years later, when I left Washington, D.C. to return to Ohio, because I’d quit a job I hated & my roommates were moving out & I didn’t know what else to do. I sold my bed on Craigslist & spent a week sleeping on an air mattress; I packed all my belongings into boxes while listening to Jimmy Eat World’s “Movielike” on repeat, sobbing intermittently as I said goodbye to my best friends & the city I’d come to call home. And again, my mother arrived in a white rental van to take me home, just the two of us, loading & unloading everything I owned as I started anew yet again.

I remember the day, just a few months later, when I moved to New Hampshire, waiting for Nathan to pull up in front of my mom’s house to help me take my stuff up north to move in with him. Before he arrived, I wailed to my mother, “I don’t know if I should do this!” but I did it anyway, moved to a state whose existence had never even permeated my consciousness because I wanted to try to make a go of a relationship that came with geographical tethers. I didn’t cry when I left Ohio, & I didn’t cry when we reached New Hampshire, but I cried a lot afterward, trying to make a life in a place that never quite felt like home, much as I grew to love it.

I remember the day I moved to New Jersey, driving the five hours alone in the dark to meet Nathan at our new apartment (sight-unseen again), where he was already living. There were no tears that time, only a midnight arrival & deep, permeating sense of exhaustion. Eight moves in less than 10 years is a whole lot of moving.

And I’ll probably remember tomorrow, too, the day I leave New Jersey to return to D.C. I don’t have any explanations or excuses as to why this move is happening, & I know that you, whoever you are, reading this, will interpret my story as you see fit. All I can say is that I am tired – so, so tired – & that I can’t keep living in places that don’t feel quite right. There are so many things & people I miss that life in this admittedly adorable New Jersey suburb just can’t provide me, try as I might to find them here. And I have.

So I made a choice, to go back to the one place, in the last 10 years, that has felt like the best fit for me. I don’t know if it’s the right choice, but it’s one I made, & just like each of the choices before it, it fills me with terror & sadness, clinging to the past while trying to bring the future into focus. Just like every other time I’ve done this in the last decade, I’m absolutely paralyzed by fear of the unknown, by fear of making the wrong decision, by fear of never in my whole life finding a place that feels like a goddamn home, a place I can stay.

I’m tired of moving, but I will keeping doing it until it feels right to settle down & just live. 
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