So, without diving too deep into it, Mike and I are moving to California. I can’t say I’m 100% thrilled. I’m not even 50% thrilled. While I did enjoy lunch with one awesome person out there, for the most part this is going to be a period of my life that involves a lot of grit teeth. I don’t do anything without four or five reasons – and the reasons are good, and I have to grudgingly accept them, even though not a single one involves me in any way shape or form. So I will move while thinking all sorts of bitter things about big companies being so big they feel entitled to fuck up little lives. But then, I’m not a person to Mike’s coworkers. That was obvious when he arranged for me to be right in front of them. I’m an obstacle, an inconvenience, someone to babble at about biking and hiking and all sorts of things I never asked about that I may myself do that I DO NOT want to have long conversations about…because they’re boring and more about showing off than about being.
But I’m stuck with it and so I’m kind of withdrawing and handing over to Mike. Maybe I’ll be happy there but probably not. I’ll be a beautiful fat woman near an ocean surrounded by a very shallow pool of humanity. Mike’s “smart” friend out there is an ass; I suspect he’s typical.
So happy face time. It’s not like I really have a choice, not in my financial situation. I have no independence. I’m stuck with this.
So sorry San Francisco, I’m going to be the newest addition to your gentrification problem.