It's been some time since my last write-in. I'm trying to reflect on the past two years...maybe offer some quick summary of events. Hm. Well, let's see. I had the baby. She's now a toddler, who's shy and suspicious of strangers. Her bangs are short, her eyebrows often furrowed when she wants them to be furrowed. She's as pure reflection of me and him. What else? I got my doctorate. Defended my dissertation on episodic memory influences on decision-making. Two, maybe two and a half years studying young and older adult brains. I accepted an offer as a data scientist. I work in front of two monitors, type a lot, and sometimes stare off into the distance.
If I were to be quite honest, I would say that I sometimes envied the less-paid past jobs I've had as a designer. I would slip on some earbuds or headphones and f o c u s. No chat messages, emails, or meetings. Just independent work. Nudge a couple of elements to line up with other content on the canvas. Nudge, nudge right. Too far. Nudge left once. That's good. Rinse and repeat. I'd indulge in true crime podcasts, maybe a background show in the corner of my screen. The possibilities are endless.
Lately, I've been counting down the days that I have left here before moving back west. The mountain view on one side, the lake just a five minute drive away - it all worked out when I had the time and energy. But now I'm surrounded by young Utahn moms that I can't even begin to relate to, and yes, that's partly my fault for not being open enough to make the first move to get to know people. But do I really have to if the energy is off? The energy is always off here. Maybe it's me.
Either way, we're going back home.
I've really taken for granted the vast diversity that is California. Its ability to be open at all hours of the day. The ongoing cycle of events, the traffic to get there, all of it. There's something so familiar about it. You gain a sense of appreciation for it after being away from it so long. I've missed the food, and the fact that you can find anything and have it be the best version of it somewhere in California. The beaches, palm trees, and power lines sprawling up and down the state.
Homesickness is a funny feeling. What is it - nostalgia for a place? People? Familiarity? Too many things. I don't know if it's so much that home is good or if it's the fact that the places I've been to are not nearly as good to me. It's hard to shake off your roots, even if you outgrow them.
Tonight's one of my favorite nights of the week. Friday nights home in your thirties is pure bliss. No FOMO, no energy, no will to live...it's almost like we're getting old. I've been listening to music, sipping on some ice water, and figuring out what to do next.
