The Beauty of the Dare
I find myself apologizing lately in my blogs. Not for them. Lord no. I gave that up long time ago. I write what I write. I won't apologize for that. On the contrary, it's like they should all being with "With all due respect...." Perhaps that's just the time we live in. People are sensitive and reality shy. And look, the only reality I ever claim to understand, support, and/or covet is my own. Mine. With all that said...
With all due respect, I've never much liked Austin. I mean I've tolerated it, liked it better at certain times than others. In other words, I've made the best of it. For almost ten years. God bless, I've wanted to leave NUMEROUS times (Caps intended). Just when I think I'm out, something pulls me back in - friends, grad school, tennis peeps, finances, an old dog. I'm sure fervent Austinites are shocked, appalled even. What's not to like? For me (remember - my blog, my life, my opinions), it's hot, expensive, crowded, trafficky, and expensive. There isn't one damn "happy-medium" that I can see. I've tried. I promise I have. I've liked it or liked it, pushed and pulled my way to some semblance of tolerance.
Many people in my life don't like it when I say, "It is what it is." They think it's a cop out, a sign that I've given up. And I suppose it is. Austin is what is it and never will be what it isn't. Not for me anyway. There were times I felt powerless to do anything about it. To maintain my sanity, I convinced myself that it was ok...enough...for the moment. For the long-term? Not a chance.
At times, friends would get perturbed. "Just leave, Stacee. Go. If you hate it here so much." My stock answer? "As soon as the old dog dies..." I think most thought it was a euphemism. It wasn't. I was literally waiting for my fifteen year old husky-greyhound mix to die. Ava was an excellent friend and companion. The last thing I wanted to do in her waning years was (1) subject her to a cross-country move or (2) leave her behind. Nope. I committed to Ava that I would see her through until the end and I intended to keep that promise. Ava died last month, peacefully with some of her favorite people around her. It was her time to be free.
And now it's mine. Ava was my last link, my last reason to stay. Oh, I have friends and a job I like, but there will be other friends and other jobs. Besides, in this day and age, friends are portable, virtually speaking. I've moved several times in my adulthood and I've kept in touch with many, many friends. Some I haven't. Some I wish I would have or could have, but that's life. I can't stick around because I'm worried about losing friends.
Change is afoot. It is. The options are nearly endless. In the U.S. alone, I have nearly 2,000 choices. I could literally throw a dart at a map and apply for a transfer to the closest location of the World's Largest Home Improvement Retailer. Then there's Europe and the rest of the world. Realistically, though, I'm staying stateside. For now. For the next five or so years. Aging parents, a car loan I'll be upside down on for a couple more years, and a certain five year old lab/cattle dog mix mean barring some spectacular and financially lucrative deal that I can't refuse, I'll be in the U.S. a while longer. As much as I dream of the ex-pat life, I'm good with it. It is what it is.
Have I ever mentioned my biggest pet peeve? It's people who whine and cry about something and never do anything to change it. How does that apply to this, me, my situation? I'm not whining or crying. Hell, I seldom complain too vocally. Still, though, if I let this moment pass, if I let something else drag me back in, I run the risk of becoming my biggest pet peeve.
I'm no different than most - I don't relish change. Change can be icky and uncomfortable. And then there's my ever-tenuous mental state. I've created a controlled existence filled with known quantities and surrounded myself with a solid support network. What happens when I shrug all that off, pack up the Juke, and speed off into the unknown? I'm being brutally honest when I say I don't know. I don't. Like when I went to Europe for the first time (and every subsequent time truly), I had no idea how it would go. The fetal position was a very real possibility. It worked out and I'm reasonably confident that a move to a new state, new city, new job, new everything would go equally ok. But........... It's that "but" that haunts me and has me cowering in Austin.
That would be even worse, wouldn't it? If I didn't leave because I'm scared. Scared of what? Nothing, everything, a full slate of 'what ifs.' What if I can't tolerate being alone when I'm truly alone? What if I rediscover loneliness? What if I end up missing Austin? What if I miss someone, one person? What if the place I hope will be my new home is no homier than Austin? What if my theory that 'home is wherever I am' is just a load of bullshit? What if wherever I go ends up just as expensive, crowded, trafficky, and expensive? What if instead of being too hot, it's too cold or too rainy or too I-don't-know-what?
I'm going to stop with that right now. If I know me and I know my brain, the list of what ifs could end up War and Peace long. And none of it does any good. It's not concrete. It's not a plan. Moreover, it's negative. Sure, all of that and/or more could come to pass. Or some of it. Or none of it. I believe in preparing for eventualities - I'm a planner for Christ's sake. I also think a solid understanding of my mental state is absolutely imperative, but I never want to it as an excuse for holding onto the status quo.
So what's leading the early voting? I have long said that if I have to live in the U.S., I want to live in the Pacific Northwest, specifically Western Washington. For whatever reason, it's called to me since my first visit back in 2011. I've contemplated other places, but I'm beginning to ask myself why. If I'm going to undertake a move one hundred percent of my own volition and I can almost literally go anywhere, why would I not go where I want to go? Because it's far? Or different? Or...? See what I mean?
It's time to stop making excuses and start making plans. As scary as that seems at times, it's equally exciting. If I let it be. If I let it be. And that's what I have to do. This could be the most exciting and certainly the most life-changing decision I've made in almost a decade. I have to put fear aside and embrace the beauty of the dare. Because it's always the unknown that makes life that much more worth living.
With all due respect, I've never much liked Austin. I mean I've tolerated it, liked it better at certain times than others. In other words, I've made the best of it. For almost ten years. God bless, I've wanted to leave NUMEROUS times (Caps intended). Just when I think I'm out, something pulls me back in - friends, grad school, tennis peeps, finances, an old dog. I'm sure fervent Austinites are shocked, appalled even. What's not to like? For me (remember - my blog, my life, my opinions), it's hot, expensive, crowded, trafficky, and expensive. There isn't one damn "happy-medium" that I can see. I've tried. I promise I have. I've liked it or liked it, pushed and pulled my way to some semblance of tolerance.
Many people in my life don't like it when I say, "It is what it is." They think it's a cop out, a sign that I've given up. And I suppose it is. Austin is what is it and never will be what it isn't. Not for me anyway. There were times I felt powerless to do anything about it. To maintain my sanity, I convinced myself that it was ok...enough...for the moment. For the long-term? Not a chance.
At times, friends would get perturbed. "Just leave, Stacee. Go. If you hate it here so much." My stock answer? "As soon as the old dog dies..." I think most thought it was a euphemism. It wasn't. I was literally waiting for my fifteen year old husky-greyhound mix to die. Ava was an excellent friend and companion. The last thing I wanted to do in her waning years was (1) subject her to a cross-country move or (2) leave her behind. Nope. I committed to Ava that I would see her through until the end and I intended to keep that promise. Ava died last month, peacefully with some of her favorite people around her. It was her time to be free.
And now it's mine. Ava was my last link, my last reason to stay. Oh, I have friends and a job I like, but there will be other friends and other jobs. Besides, in this day and age, friends are portable, virtually speaking. I've moved several times in my adulthood and I've kept in touch with many, many friends. Some I haven't. Some I wish I would have or could have, but that's life. I can't stick around because I'm worried about losing friends.
Change is afoot. It is. The options are nearly endless. In the U.S. alone, I have nearly 2,000 choices. I could literally throw a dart at a map and apply for a transfer to the closest location of the World's Largest Home Improvement Retailer. Then there's Europe and the rest of the world. Realistically, though, I'm staying stateside. For now. For the next five or so years. Aging parents, a car loan I'll be upside down on for a couple more years, and a certain five year old lab/cattle dog mix mean barring some spectacular and financially lucrative deal that I can't refuse, I'll be in the U.S. a while longer. As much as I dream of the ex-pat life, I'm good with it. It is what it is.
Have I ever mentioned my biggest pet peeve? It's people who whine and cry about something and never do anything to change it. How does that apply to this, me, my situation? I'm not whining or crying. Hell, I seldom complain too vocally. Still, though, if I let this moment pass, if I let something else drag me back in, I run the risk of becoming my biggest pet peeve.
I'm no different than most - I don't relish change. Change can be icky and uncomfortable. And then there's my ever-tenuous mental state. I've created a controlled existence filled with known quantities and surrounded myself with a solid support network. What happens when I shrug all that off, pack up the Juke, and speed off into the unknown? I'm being brutally honest when I say I don't know. I don't. Like when I went to Europe for the first time (and every subsequent time truly), I had no idea how it would go. The fetal position was a very real possibility. It worked out and I'm reasonably confident that a move to a new state, new city, new job, new everything would go equally ok. But........... It's that "but" that haunts me and has me cowering in Austin.
That would be even worse, wouldn't it? If I didn't leave because I'm scared. Scared of what? Nothing, everything, a full slate of 'what ifs.' What if I can't tolerate being alone when I'm truly alone? What if I rediscover loneliness? What if I end up missing Austin? What if I miss someone, one person? What if the place I hope will be my new home is no homier than Austin? What if my theory that 'home is wherever I am' is just a load of bullshit? What if wherever I go ends up just as expensive, crowded, trafficky, and expensive? What if instead of being too hot, it's too cold or too rainy or too I-don't-know-what?
I'm going to stop with that right now. If I know me and I know my brain, the list of what ifs could end up War and Peace long. And none of it does any good. It's not concrete. It's not a plan. Moreover, it's negative. Sure, all of that and/or more could come to pass. Or some of it. Or none of it. I believe in preparing for eventualities - I'm a planner for Christ's sake. I also think a solid understanding of my mental state is absolutely imperative, but I never want to it as an excuse for holding onto the status quo.
So what's leading the early voting? I have long said that if I have to live in the U.S., I want to live in the Pacific Northwest, specifically Western Washington. For whatever reason, it's called to me since my first visit back in 2011. I've contemplated other places, but I'm beginning to ask myself why. If I'm going to undertake a move one hundred percent of my own volition and I can almost literally go anywhere, why would I not go where I want to go? Because it's far? Or different? Or...? See what I mean?
It's time to stop making excuses and start making plans. As scary as that seems at times, it's equally exciting. If I let it be. If I let it be. And that's what I have to do. This could be the most exciting and certainly the most life-changing decision I've made in almost a decade. I have to put fear aside and embrace the beauty of the dare. Because it's always the unknown that makes life that much more worth living.
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