Wanderlust

"The real voyage of discovery is not in discovering new lands, but in seeing with new eyes."

- Marcel Proust

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For just about twenty-one years of my life I have lived in the same town. The same suburbs-gone-city piece of Virginia. On countless ocassions I've said that I never wanted to leave, that I would be perfectly happy living and dying here. What a liar I was. Over the past few months I've realized that's the absolutely last thing I want to do. I look around at my family, my friend, all the people who have gotten stuck here. Stuck in the same dead end job, stuck in the same miserable house, unhappy with their lives and in too deep to leave. So I've made a decision; I'm moving to California. It won't be tommorow, or the next day, or the next. I need to save some money. I'm not stupid, I'm not going to dive into this headfirst and not know how to swim. I need to be able to keep my car, have a place to live, be able to feed myself, the neccesities. It could even be three years before I go, but trust me, I'm going. I'm propelled by such a deep sense of Wanderlust that I don't even care what part of California I land in. It looks like Oakland is a likely choice, second place goes to Berkely. I don't want to move to San Franscisco for my own personal reasons, but the more and more I hear about it the more I begin to consider it if I have no other choice. John says L.A., because I would blend. But that defeats the purpose, I don't want to blend. How dull it is to be thought of the same as everyone else. My mother asked me if I had ever been to California, how do I know I will like it? Well I haven't, and I don't. That's the excitement. It's something completely new, something I've never seen before. That idea is what tugs my heart towards the west coast. What's the worst that could happen? If I don't like it, I move back.