Where I don't care what others think

Right Back Where We Started From

June 20th, 2011 Posted in Life, Personal

I know, I know, this isn’t part two of the three part series.  I haven’t given up on that at, but I set the bar a bit high and I don’t want to underwhelm you with part 2.  It also accidentally got published before I was finished, I’ll blame a wordpress vulnerability.  Those things tend to happen if you don’t update the code every now and then.

I’m writing this blog from my new apartment in Mountain View, CA.  If you hadn’t heard, I got a job working for a large search engine company (who’s opinions are never reflected here) which was well timed with my graduation from my Master’s program.  I packed my bag and moved out here three weeks ago and started work two weeks ago.  It’s been a crazy busy season, and this blog has been much more neglected than I’d like it to have been.  Things happen.

Despite all the help I had, relocating across the country wasn’t nearly as easy as I’d have liked it to be.  I consider myself fairly minimalist, I never thought I really had that much stuff and most of it was pretty easy for me to move.  For years I had moved myself in and out of college solo so everything was pretty manageable.  This past year, living in my apartment in Troy, I ended up with a lot more stuff than I would have usually had.  Some of it I needed (like plates), some of it I wanted (like a Keurig), and some of it I was given (like tons of steak knives).  The quantity of stuff was a bit daunting to think about, but luckily I’m not emotionally attached to much of it so throwing it out doesn’t phase me too much.

After I decided what was important to take or not I had to attempt to box / pack it up.  It’s fairly depressing trying to fit your life into a suitcase / boxes and thinking that those small containers hold everything physically of value to you.  Like I said, I don’t have lots of stuff, but I have a few small tokens that have come to help refresh my constantly failing memory; the blanket I’ve had on my bed since freshman year, the posters my dad always makes fun of, etc.  Not having too much stuff probably made the physical packing process easier, but thinking that stuff was all I have after 20-something years of life usually triggers the “what have I been doing with my time” stack trace which rarely ends well.

But enough about packing, in theory those boxes will be mailed out here soon now that I’ve tested my address (ordered a cable modem from Amazon to verify packages got delivered easily).  It will be nice to have a few things around here that aren’t completely new; I think all I have right now is a fairly ridiculously family picture my mom gave me with some strange family poem around it.  A reminder what my parents look like, I hope I never get bad enough to forget that.

I think what strikes me as most depressing (sorry for the lack of optimism at the moment) are the times like now. It’s like 11-something PM and I look at Google Latitude, informing that the closest contact to me is around 2500 miles away.  Coupling that with the thought that it’s after 2AM on the east coast I’m left with this reminder how lonely life can be.  I’ll say it, even thought it’s not particularly unique to me and somewhat cliche – Don’t take those around you for granted.  Enemies or not they’re there, which is often better than no one at all.

I spent close to a decade just observing from the outside, I didn’t fit in so peering through the window seemed like the next best thing.  In the end someone opened that window and pulled me in, a simple act I’ll be eternally grateful for.  Moving out here’s felt like I’ve ripped myself from whatever environment I had been in, not just my 5 years at RPI but my life thus far of being within driving distance of my hometown.  Sure, I’ve fallen out of contact with just about everyone in high school but the thought was still there; I could drive a few minutes and see then if I wanted to. Knowing these people were around, even it completely uninvolved or unrelated to me, helped me sleep at night knowing that the chance was there if I’d wanted to seize it.  I’d learn to live with that chance, and often out here I don’t think I even have that.  Out here I haven’t found any windows for me to look though even, never mind anything more,  it just solid walls.

Good night moon.

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