Welcome

I’m in Seattle. I live here now.
I’m not really okay with that, but sometimes, in life, we’re forced to ride that log of shit downhill…as it’s always rolls downhill. I guess I should back-up a bit: how’s August 2007? I guess that’s about the time I got “onboard.”
I had received my acceptance letter to film school in Paris and for about 2 months, all of my dreams (even the ones I never allowed myself to think of, not for a minute) were becoming reality. I was going to Paris to live the rest of my life! I got accepted to a great Master’s Program (something I doubted would happen [hey, I went to a state party school), and I was going to make films. Great films that I could be so proud of.
Funny thing about postgraduate work in foreign countries, banks and lending organizations: they consider the student too much of a flight risk to invest in. I tried to convince my Dad to co-sign a private loan for me, but he wouldn’t (I was clear that I never wanted anything from him, just a signature), he’s now getting ready to retire a millionaire. Sorry, these grapes are still a little sour…
As everything started to fall away from me, the people around me kept telling me, “Where there’s a will, there’s a way.” “Don’t give up, you can work for a year and save up.” “Look, a window just opened…Let’s see what the view is like”
The problem is that $60,000 isn’t a sum I can save in one year—I can’t earn that much in a year? Also, as strong as my will was, being told to find a way (and no one had any suggestions for me) only made me feel like a failure.
Anyway, that window was Seattle. By October, I’d bought a suit, went on a handful of interviews, and got a job at a multinational company in their HR department. The hard part about my job is that while it isn’t something I want to do for the rest of my life (in fact, they say the burnout rate for my position is 2 years), the company is great. They are very progressive, supportive, and they pay me really well. I can see myself in Seattle, with a mortgage, a dog, and carpal tunnel syndrome in 5 years. This thought brings me to tears. It’s pathetic—believe me, I know. In this economy, while people are losing their homes and livelihoods, I am complaining about how comfortable my job is. For that, I can only ask forgiveness as nothing can really excuse it.
I am not happy here. I’ve never, in all of my life been so broke. I can pay my bills, but am wearing underwear with holes in them because I am paying back student loans, and about $900 each month for rent. I’ve always been able to indulge a bit, but right now, I can’t afford groceries this month.
Also, I haven’t really found anyone I like or a community I want to become a part of here. I dislike the people in my neighborhood: its newly gentrified, 30 million-dollar-penthouse-owners, or a legion of the homeless and destitute men and women of Seattle. I don’t really fit in with either.
Seattle is that great jacket that looks so good on the hanger, but is ultimately too short in the sleeves and not broad enough in the shoulders.
The hardest trial so far has been breaking up with my long-term boyfriend. It is, in hindsight, a really good thing. It’s just a difficult thing—more so than I was prepared for. Before we started dating, I was really happy being single. I LOVED being single. Now, there is an empty space on the left side of my bed. I miss spending Sunday mornings together and fighting because he was always late. It still physically hurts sometimes, but has subsided to a dull thud from a sharp, breathtaking pain.
Lately, I find myself restless. I have an itch to go. I need to see what’s there…in the world, in life. I need to experience all that’s missing from life right now: fulfillment, adventure, learning, challenge. It’s cruel that for the first time in my life, I know what I want (and what I think I need), and I am handicapped without the means to obtain it.
Please don’t misunderstand me, I don’t feel sorry for myself. I have given me two years in Seattle. At the end of that time, I could choose to stay or do something else. No pressure. What’s two years of saving some money and paying down some debt? I won’t be anywhere nearer to paying for that Parisian degree, but I will have two years of life to show for it. My daily mantra is, “Stay Present.” Honestly, I’ve never been good at that, but now is the time—more than ever before that I need to be. Making the best of Seattle, living in the next few years instead of waiting through them is my goal. If I can do that, I will consider my time here a success in more than a few ways.

“Life is what happens when you’re waiting for something to happen.” 10pts for whoever can name the Christian Bale film in which that phrase is painted on a wall.

Well, that’s the beginning of my new story. I am now a 27 year-old American living in an American city. So, er…um, welcome to my new blog.