Yeah, so I ignored my resolution to write more consistently after my last entry.
What's new:
I went to Boston, interviewed with a big practice there, one that I've admired for years, and got offered a job. But I'm not taking it. I'm staying in L.A., for now at least.
The short answer is that the job being offered wasn't quite what I wanted to be doing, and the salary was a big drop from what I currently earn. The long answer is that I went and met with them, and spent a few days at home, and while I saw some friends and family and had a lovely time, I didn't feel that pull that made me want to stay.
I've been looking for that pull for most of my adult life. After college, I moved to New York City, stayed for 8 years, then came to L.A., where I'm about to hit the six-year mark. And while these are both exciting cities with much to see and do, I've never quite felt like I belonged, like I could commit to staying for good. Leaving has always been in the back of my head. I have this notion that I'll eventually find a place where I'll feel like I fit, like I've found my people, and then I won't always be wondering where the next place will be.
I don't mean this in a snobby way; it's not that I feel like I'm better than everyone else. It's more that I don't know who or where my people are. I'm fortunate to have a small group of friends who are very dear to me, but they are a bit scattered, geographically speaking: northern California, Massachusetts, Kentucky, New York. And yes, I have friends here in L.A., but due to schedules, obligations, and my own weird brand of shyness, I don't socialize a heck of a lot. I guess I have this fantasy that when I find 'my' place - wherever that may be - then I'll be one of those people juggling engagements, having parties, and so on. But I suspect that social butterflies aren't born at the ripe age of 35, and instead of fighting my nature, perhaps it's time that I come to terms with how I conduct my social life, rather than expect it to magically change with a new address. Or, I could challenge myself to improve my life here instead of running away.
Plus, I'm afraid that my first winter back in Boston might result in my weeping into my multiple layers of clothing, and inhaling mass quantities of dark chocolate until I develop a protective layer of blubber that would make Moby Dick envious.
And yes, I admit, there's also a boy involved. But I'm not ready to talk about that yet.