1) Start my career in a new place.
2) Southern California weather.
3)
Move on from heartbreak.
Number 1
I grew up in central Florida, Orlando to be specific. I was
actually born in Los Angeles but we moved when I was very young. I lived a safe
suburban lifestyle in the flat lands of the Hispanic south. I remember it being
a big day when my mom first let me ride my bike to school in fourth grade. I
remember hating riding my bike to school in Middle School. I remember knowing
everyone in my area and making friends so easily. I was zoned for a specific high
school. The way it works in central Florida is that you go where they tell you
to. Choice isn’t exactly the swing state’s strong suit. I, however, found a
loophole. I joined a magnet program that would allow me to go to a different
high school than the one I was zoned for. This was an opportunity full of new
people, new experiences, and new environments. I could’ve gone to the high
school I was zoned for with the same people I had gone to school with for 6
years, but something about that seemed boring to me. I like change.
My high school years were great. My best friendships to this
day come from those years, which oddly enough, doesn’t seem to be that common
of an occurrence. My high school also happened to be right across from the
biggest university in central Florida. Obviously, most of my classmates were
graduating high school to go to said university. It would be like high school
part 2, only this time with keg parties and smelly apartments. I, again, chose
to go to a different school. It was 2 hours north of Orlando and I didn’t know
very many people who were going there but I knew enough to make me feel
comfortable. It was a small college town that was very different from
everything I grew up with. Change started to become a theme in
my life.
I learned a lot in college. It was my first time living on
my own. I moved out of my parents’ house at 17 years old. I had to budget,
cook, study, work, and party…none of which I did particularly well, except for
the partying. I started learning how to be independent in college. I learned
that academia is only as valuable as the character that holds it. It was a
whimsical time mixed with the pressure of setting yourself up for…well…the rest
of your life. It probably is of no surprise that once I graduated college, I
felt like I was done with Florida. I wanted to leave. It felt small. The only
meaning that existed there was my family and friends, both of which had been
with me for quite some time. I had always wanted to go back to southern
California, given that I was born there. I never really got to experience it. I
took the opportunity to start my career as an engineer in California. Change
seems to be somewhat of a life companion. Now, Florida seems smaller than ever.
Number 2
The weather here is perfect. No humidity. Sunshine almost
every day. Perfect temperature. Beaches. Mountains. Snow. Surf. Smog (air you
can’t see is air you can’t trust!).
It’s all here. What a perfect place. What a great location for exploration. If you try to compete with southern California weather, trust me,
you’ll fail. I always wondered why weather was so important when people were
choosing where to live…now I know.
Number 3
My heart is still in Florida. I’ve been in California for
close to two years now, and every time I go to Orlando for a visit, it all
still smells familiar. I fell in love in Florida. I got my heart broken there
too. It’s interesting how those two experiences can get tied so viscerally to a
location. After graduating college, Florida was driving me crazy with memories.
I felt like I had to escape. How many applications did I fill out for jobs in
Florida? Zero. It wasn’t even an option.
It’s funny how the beauty of a location seems dependent on
where your heart lies at the time. It’s almost like that pair of glasses with which we view
our surroundings. I had to leave Florida because I needed a new prescription. My
heart was in a sad place and I couldn’t walk around the city without bringing
it with me. Perhaps I was being somewhat of a coward trying to run away, but I
felt reason number 2 was enough justification. The funny thing is that when I
left, I brought that heart with me. I brought her with me. Texts, phone calls,
notes, confusion, highs and lows…California didn’t take them away, it just gave
me better weather to experience them in. Change is not an escape.
Change
My dad told me something interesting today. He told me that
I took a leap of faith by moving so far away without knowing anyone. The west
coast was the first move I made where I didn’t know at least a small group of
people. I was literally setting out to be alone, with my fragile heart, just
hoping that I would find something worthy of discovery, maybe myself. My dad
told me it was a bold move, he didn’t know if he would have had the guts to do
it himself. For anyone who knows about my relationship with my pops, hearing that was a
big deal for me.
Seventeen days from now will mark two years since I’ve been
here. I would love to be typing a blog post about how moving to California was
the best thing that ever happened to me, how I’ve moved on and generated a
whole new set of friends and a whole new life. Unfortunately, that’s not the case just yet. Here’s the truth:
Moving to a place a sizable distance away where you don’t
know a soul is an extremely difficult experience. If you’re an introvert, it
might not be as hard but you’ll be forking over more rent money to live by
yourself. The professional world is much different than academia. It’s a world
fueled by money, run by old people, and not as conducive to those “hey, let’s
sit around, eat ice cream, and watch Netflix” type friendships. In fact, I don’t
even remember the last time someone came into my apartment unannounced, walked into my kitchen, opened my fridge, and ate my food. That used to be daily life
and now it’s a distant memory…2,400 miles to be exact.
At first, everything is new. There’s excitement in the air
because no matter where you go or who you meet, it’s an adventure. It’s
something completely different than what you’re used to. As time advances, the
excitement starts to fade. After two years, I’ve made a few good friends, done
a lot of really cool activities, bought some cool stuff, and still have my
heart in the same place; all of which required significantly more initiative
than they ever did before. The thing about change is that it’s somewhat
fleeting, an instantaneous event that re-directs your life’s circumstances.
However, I have learned that change doesn’t heal, and neither does time. Change
distracts, while time conditions.
Don’t get me wrong, change is good, and so is time. Both are
the tools we use with our power of choice to craft our lives. Healing, however,
comes from within. It comes from confrontation with reality. It comes from
admitting that two years later, southern California can be pretty lonely
sometimes. It comes from realizing that forging meaningful relationships
requires a lot more effort than it used to. It comes from understanding that
old friends have their own things going on, and less time to catch up with you.
It comes from writing blog posts about your thoughts and feelings, giving you the
voice that used to talk on the phone for hours with that girl from Florida.
Perhaps there’s a much more important change that holds more
weight than where we’re going to live and what we’re going to do. Maybe this
confrontation of self can inspire a change in perspective. If we can change our perspective,
every other change of circumstance or conditioning of time becomes powerless. There’s
a plethora of things I can’t control, but perspective is not one of them. Right
now, I live and work in southern California. I’m going to school and I do
things that I enjoy. I have a few good friends that I love very much. I still
have my family and friends from Florida (distance doesn’t put a dent in that). Things that used to be easy have become harder but not impossible,
and the weather really is great. My heart is in recovery mode looking for
perspective. Spring is in the air, and I need a new pair of sunglasses.
I think it’s time for a change.
