Here is the news: I'm moving back to San Francisco. Some people - including grad school friends - were all "about time!" and other people were all "WHY?!" And here is my explanation... It all has to do with hindsight my friends. Hindsight is funny because in the moment it means nothing. When you are making decisions it is no where to be found it is only AFTER you've spent thousands moving, spent time and stress trying to re-establish yourself in a new apartment, different city, different job, that hindsight is all "dude, you messed that up."
I've never really made a mistake in the process of my life before. I look back on decisions I've made, things I've done and sometimes I think "If I were to do that over again this is what I'd do", but most things happen for a reason, and it all works out in the end, right? I guess in your early twenties those two cliches become a mantra. This time, though, I feel like I did make a mistake. It's not unfixable, it's not the end of the world, but I'm calling it how I see it.
Here's what happened: I wanted to take a break from scrambling for what I wanted, from filling out applications, from running the race. My last semester/year of grad school I was exhausted from working full time and going to school full time. Exhausted through every cell in my body. Eternally tired. You get the idea. So I decided to not fill out all those applications all over the country for composition professors and to move home, get a food service job and write. I wanted to focus on being a writer and publish. Well it didn't exactly work out that way. Writing didn't happen like I thought it would for various reasons (no desk, no space, no motivation, and again that tired thing), I ended up working long hours in a very physical way which made my days off about scrambling to get my life errands done and trying to work out a routine that took 6 months to only 1/2 figure out. Plus I was just becoming more and more broke with the threat of my expensive loan looming in the future. Future meaning due in March. Realizing that I needed to get a job that paid more I started hunting on craigslist, on company's websites, etc etc. Nothing I saw inspired me. I want to use my education, I want to do something I'm interested in, passionate about, something relevant to what I know and how I am. And the best I could do in seattle was an admin at an insurance company? To say the least there have been tears of frustration over this. There were very very few opportunities in the writing section of craigslist. Nothing really relevant. Blog from home? I already do that. Translate Japanese? No. So on a whim, just to see what other cities were like in this category, I checked out the writing section in San Francisco's craigslist. And the comparison had me floored. And mad at myself. Here is a side by side comparison:
Not only were there more jobs, they were relevant. Publishing, marketing, editing, the list goes on. I had a full on what the fuck have I done moment. Why wasn't I more patient after graduating? Why didn't I look around longer? I left a writing community, a support system of professors with connections, and apparently a wealth of job opportunities. So I'm moving back. I don't have all the answers and I'm lucky that I don't have children or real responsibilities so that I can make mistakes and fix them without a lot of repercussions. I'm moving without a job lined up - though I am applying all the time, and without a lot of money. But thankfully I have people there who will help me. And it's all an adventure, right? Take the plunge and see what happens. It's San Francisco - Take Two.