a cutie pie at various intervals
It felt good to be back in Orange County for Labor Day weekend. Driving past my old house, reassuring myself that I still knew "the back way" as I navigated familiar streets, I had to laugh at myself that I had this melodramatic notion that everything was going to look different. It doesn't really at all.
I think I've recently been turning stuff over in my head the same way I did the summer before I moved to New York, wondering what direction my life would go in, scared and kind of excited for phantom opportunities lurking ahead. I'm catching on that constantly wondering is becoming a little self indulgent. But, now that I'm a little older, I'm also a little slower moving when it comes to things that scare me. The idea of taking a risk and turning my life upside down because I'm constantly searching for some perfect place where I belong is appealing at times, but doesn't feel adventurous anymore, it feels like running scared. I feel like change will happen more organically than that. Hopefully it'll sneak up on me before I get a chance to get too freaked out.
I've been preoccupied with the idea of what home is. I probably wouldn't be thinking this way if I wasn't uncomfortable and ready for change, but I keep asking: is it California, which I a miss when I need an antidote to NYC? Is it Florida now that my parents live there? Is it where my family is, because they're all over the place now and kind of have their own lives? (Is it possible to kidnap Caden and keep him in my purse?) Is home New York? Because no matter how hard I try, I can't make New York feel homey. That was never really important to me before, but it becoming more so. Is it demented that I'm even thinking about this stuff, or is it a normal crossroads?
Anyway at least I can cross O.C. off the list--it's wonderful in an nostalgic way to visit. I get to relive those pieces of teenage years spent stuck in traffic on the 55 with a half eaten (Del Taco) burrito on my lap and nowhere to be. But it's not for me. I knew that when I was 18, and am glad I still do.
I wish I could translate these totally deep thoughts (sarcasm) into some sort of opus. anyway, the only solution to my mopey thoughts is to just keep my head down and keep working. For the first time in my life I'm developing an all American work ethic: If I try my hardest even when it's not going so well, I'll eventually be successful.
And besides, when I start to take myself seriously, or get freaked out about whether I've gone offtrack, I have a weekend with my nephew who puts me in my place with his 4 year old perspective of life.