Monday, July 18, 2011
like a gypsy
I post this video mostly for the shirtless Rafa. You're welcome.
During a dinner tonight, the subject of moving came up: both what a pain it was to do and how cleansing the process of winnowing down of one's possessions could be.
Since graduating from college, I've moved seven times in as many years. My attachment to any place I've lived in has been passing. This is both good and bad I suppose; good because it's led to a certain leanness of lifestyle, bad because I never just have things like bandaids around.
The idea of actually owning property is downright alien but it's more than that. As much as New York City was my heart's desire in my early twenties, I suppose I was never really in it for the long haul. I came back to Seattle with every intention of leaving again for grad school some eight months later. And then I found myself with a life here the way one does: back in Seattle with friends and work and family and things I didn't want to leave.
Will I stay forever? I would never tempt fate by claiming to know the future (despite recent attempts). Love, work and adventure can always show up to carry you away in a way that one can't refuse. But I don't see that for myself. I see being here in Seattle, my home. With all its bad dressers and rainy days; with its passive drivers and brooding baristas. I'll always feel a little New York with my edge and my closet full of high heels but underneath that I'm Seattle. Underneath, I'm a deep thinking, tree climbing Northwesterner who wants a good book and good cup of coffee.
Who are you underneath it all?