The trouble with moving to Portland...

... is that I really, really like where I live now. It really struck me yesterday as I was walking around my neighborhood doing a little shopping. Surely they have similar neighborhoods up there. But apparently while there are good places to live, there are also "plenty to ignore. Further south and east are unreformed redneck territory, sufficiently north is ghetto, dog racing, and swamp, southwest is rich people, universities, and river trolls, anything past the west hills is suburban sprawl." So says a friend who lived there once upon a time.

And to paraphrase another friend, wherever I go, there I am. Moving to Portland or Seattle or Chicago or Boston won't change the fact that I'm not happy with where my life is right now. It won't change my attitudes toward working and relationships, neither of which I am remotely interested in - yet this lack of interest seems to cause me grief. I don't understand how not wanting something makes me feel bad about not wanting it. (These things in particular, that is. I don't want an iPhone and I don't feel bad about that.) Maybe it follows the "grass is always greener" theory that caused me to consider moving in the first place?

But it's a new year. I'm turning 33 this month, which for some reason feels more significant to me than 30 was or than 35 will be. I've lived in the same square mile radius for 10 years. With aging parents (and other relatives) and dear oldest friends embarking on parenthood, chances are high that I'll be moving back east in the next 5 years or so, at least temporarily. Now seems to be the time to explore more of the left coast.

It's not like I get out that much anyway... As long as I'm within walking distance of an independent movie theater and a Peet's, and a bus ride away from the equivalent of the Great American Music Hall, I think I could be happy.

Here's to a year of exciting new adventures for everyone!