Read Page Ten

During the last couple of months, I began harboring this itch. And I know this itch. I‘ve scratched it before. It began at the exact place I’m sitting now; at the table nearest the trashcan in my favorite Barnes & Noble in Maryland. And, the more romanticized aspect of this whole affair is that I can almost positively state that it was exactly three years ago that I made the decision I’m currently set on reversing.I remember the “aha!” moment. I didn’t drive straight home and tell the ‘rents “look, come summer, I’m moving back to LA…hasta la vista”.

I kept it to myself, but spoke of it with certainty. I told random strangers, but never my closest friends. And here I am. Again. Sitting next to my very own version of the Bodhi Tree (which stinks of sugary Starbucks concoctions). And it almost feel reverential. I’m digging for a deeper meaning, when the pure reality of the situation is that I don’t like the “real life” I have in LA. It’s not the life I imagined three years ago. So, I’m re-imaging a life in DC; I’d land the perfect gig, meet awesome people, go to awesome places, and do awesome things.

And magically, I won’t be the person I am, but instead be the person I want to be.Moving is my short term, fuck-it-all solution. I do love LA. When I’m not there. When I’m not working. When it’s not sunny. And I hate DC. When I’m here. And when I’m working. And when it’s snowing. If I quit a well-paying, upwardly mobile gig that supplies me with enough dough to grocery shop at Whole Foods, afford my own pad, and buy useless techie toys, would it be stupid?

If I gave up and vagabonded cross country for a couple months, would it be crazy? Better yet, is it rational to wake up in the morning, dread my day? Week? Year? And repeat it over a lifetime? And is it absofuckinglutely insane, knowing that in three years time, I will likely reverse the reversal of my decision?