As I mentioned in my first post, I was reading a book recently called
"Who's Your City?" Briana had told me about it when I was trying to figure out how foolish I was being in desiring to move seemingly randomly to this place in which I've spent less than a week. The back-story is this: in May, I flew to Portland, Oregon to photograph several small-housers for my thesis. For many years, I had wanted to go to Portland so I was more than happy to have the opportunity to visit for both work and pleasure. Portland, in fact, represented a dream I had of college, which was far too expensive to reach. As a high-schooler, I received materials from
Reed College in the mail, and no other school came close to providing everything I wanted. The classes seemed challenging and unique, the environment stunning, the resources top-notch...it was exactly what I wanted. My parents said I was more than welcome to attend school there, but that I'd get the equivalent in support from them that I would get to attend UT... one year at Reed would have cost just a little less than my parents paid for my entire education. I didn't even apply. Going that far into debt was inconceivable to me, so I applied to UT for early acceptance, and got in.
Obviously, when I traveled to Portland I went in with a positive bias. Now it's possible that this actually would have opened me up to a bigger disappointment, but here's the thing...it didn't. I've been living in Santa Cruz for two years now, and what I've discovered in that time is this: I like not sweating. I like leaving my house and it not being a big deal if I forget to put deodorant on. Austin? Couldn't do that. You can hardly sit in your air-conditioned house without deodorant if you have windows. And Barton Springs? Far too many people there for me to embrace it as the perfect solution. My biggest problem with finding a place to live, however, is that Austin really spoiled me. There are only two things I don't like about it: the heat and the traffic. The positives to that city are huge, but when it comes down to it, those two things weigh much too heavily in my satisfaction quotient. My relationship with Austin is a lot like finding the not-quite-perfect man. I love him, he's witty, we have fun together, his family is great, but in the end he doesn't believe in a woman's right to choose. And as much as I love him, I can't build a life around that. It's a deal-breaker. And now that we're speaking of relationships, I should also explain that Ty and I were having trouble when I went to Portland. I still thought we were going to be living in our tiny house together, but the little voice on the edge of my thoughts was telling me I might need to have a back-up plan.
While I was there, it seemed like there was something fantastic around every turn. Gorgeous city with interesting neighborhoods and architecture? Check. Not too difficult to get around? Check. Foliage and nature? Definitely. Awesome coffee shops and restaurants? A mind-boggling array. Oh and affordable housing? Even better than Austin. Not to mention their progressive land-use policies. The people I've talked to about this destination respond in one of two ways: "Awesome, I've heard great things!" or "I could never handle that much rain." And I would be lying if I said I didn't care about the rain. I've looked it up. 150 days of precipitation. 4 1/2 months. In the end, though, it all comes down to perspective. The 9 years I lived in Austin, I rarely went outside during the summer (which, let's be honest, lasts anywhere from 4-7 months). I hated it. I would stay in the AC until almost dark if I could. Going somewhere to cool off necessarily entailed getting overheated as soon as I got in my car. So comparatively? I think I could be OK in the rain, if I had a cozy place to get a latte and work on my computer. That's still 7 1/2 months of not-wet.
I've thought about looking into other places. On my list? Ann Arbor, Berkeley, Charlottesville, Asheville, Seattle, Marfa. I've heard good things about Raleigh and Madison. And I loved the time I spent in both Maine and Montana. And I have looked for jobs in some of them, scoped out the scene. The only reason I would stay in Santa Cruz or the Bay area right now is my friends. There are a select few people who I will truly miss and have no desire to relegate to phone and email-only relationships. But my gut is telling me it's time to leave. And I am a firm believer in the power of the gut. So? I think it's about time to invest in a nice
umbrella.