Friday, November 21, 2014

After the Move: Finding Myself Again

So... I'm sitting here in rainy Portland, contemplating life over a freshly brewed latte with delicious, nutty espresso. I stare out the window through dark rimmed glasses. My beanie is shoved over my short, pixie cut hair, and I come to this conclusion: I have become myself again.

Not that I was anyone other than myself, but for a while, I felt like I was.

Los Angeles is a strange place. You go there with these hopes and dreams of what your sunny LA life will be like. Some people, if they are tenacious enough or have an endless amount of positivity, will succeed. Others, like me, will realize they are not cut out for the very socially-dependent atmosphere.

If you are not an extrovert, Los Angeles can be very taxing.

I like people. Heck, I actually enjoyed being a barista and cashier. Some people think that's weird, but I like being able to interact with people--on a small scale. Los Angeles requires you to chase after contacts, constantly put yourself out there, and keep in touch with anyone who might be a lead on a new position.

The constant game of cat and mouse was too frustrating.

I'd rather have a quiet life than one where I am constantly busy. I'd rather have this moment with my coffee than running from one afternoon meeting to another. I'd rather have a part time job to pay the rent and still pursue my independent creative life.

So Portland. Portland to me is a bit like Boston. Some people may hate me for saying that, but honestly, the laid-back attitude applies to both cities. Sure, Massachusetts has more road rage issues (and arguably, we're quicker to anger than some), but there was always a sense of community.

People treated you like people, not another number waiting to be served.

That's how I feel here. I can start random conversations with strangers again. I feel safe enough to have a brief discussion with a person I might never see again. I'm enjoying life.

And maybe that's why I'm finding it so hard to write right now. I write to escape. Now, I have nothing to escape from.

I'm confident I'll find my voice again, but for now, I'm going to enjoy the rainy weather, try to look less like a hipster (though, I fear I have already become one), and smile for absolutely no reason other than simply being.