So two weeks ago, I moved to Salt Lake City from Chicago (!). The move came after a few years of wanting to live somewhere new, preferably somewhere with access to the outdoors. I like the city a lot actually, from what I've seen so far. I like the cute neighborhoods and the mostly blue skies and the mountain views in every direction. There are things that are lacking, like public transportation and an abundance of restaurants on par with those in Chicago, but I will deal just fine.

Right before moving, a funny thing happened where I ended up stumbling on old journals from high school while I was cleaning under my bed. I stopped packing for a second to read through them and was quickly reminded of my younger, even more idealistic self. The journals were filled with nomadic dreams, notions of radical environmentalism and mostly, a lot of Bush era despair. There was a part of me that wanted to drop everything after sifting through them and travel without aim and live among the train-hoppers but then I thought, what would I do about money and health insurance and the existential feelings that come when I wander with no idea of where I am going?

I am not as radical as I hoped when I was younger but oh well, I've come to find that, like most, I actually enjoy routine and stability. I like creating my own home and a consistent paycheck and luckily, a bit of disposable income for hobbies and travel plans and donations towards things I would like to see come about in this world. I'm 27 and don't have a MFA or any published work but I do have words that I have written and a belief that maybe I actually prefer writing without publishing. For now, that feels like enough.

And in terms of travel, I love seeing new places (preferably thoroughly) but I like my career too. I was talking to a co-worker about this recently and realized that the European model really is my ideal, with its generous vacation policy. In a dream world, I would be able to work and be productive but still have the chance to wander for four or five weeks each year. (But of course, I've lived in Honduras and know the other side of the spectrum, that I'm lucky to have a job at all.)

I feel like I'm saying a lot of the same things I've said in previous posts but I guess the new surroundings have just reminded me again that life is good, even though it's not what I expected. I will be moving into an apartment and starting a new job in a few weeks and am excited and nervous and at times, conflicted. My life isn't exactly the narrative I constructed for myself when I was younger but I'm old enough to buck plans now, give up the idea of a set narrative and live instead as life comes (and yet I'm torn, is holding tight to a dream the only way I'll ever get there?).

My motto, it seems, always: oh well. Onward and onward.