Saturday, February 11, 2006

An epiphany via the B-52s

I was on just to see if a friend of mine was on (seriously). I got PVT'd almost immediately.
"What are you into?"

My response: "books"

He quickly left me alone.

It's 9:12 on a Saturday night. I opted to stay in tonight. It's blustery and I didn't feel like spending any cash. I survived my first week at my new job. But I'm exhausted. At this moment, I'm drinking some oolong tea and listening to Bruce Springsteen's seminal LP, Nebraska. And, ironically, it's the album I'm listening to that's making my decision to move.

First off, I apologize for sounding self-pitying and selfish these past few months. I know Blogs are supposed to be like that - but when I read peoples posts from Darfur, it really makes most bitchings sound just like what they are - bitching. So, in my very safe apartment, sipping yuppie tea and spending the rest of my Saturday night doing yuppie tasks, like burning songs to my iPod and deciding which issues of Paste to throw out, I map out a brief rant into why I'm deciding to leave the city of Omaha.

I thought the reason for some of my depression these past few months came from working at a failing company. I thought once I achieved the task of securing a new job (one in which I beat out 50 other applicants), things would change. I would find a job that would challenge me. I would find a group of hip, cool, dedicated co-workers who could show me the cool sides of Omaha and make me appreciate this truly great city. But after my first week, I felt that same void I have felt the past two years.

I went to the Homy Inn with a friend tonight - he was looking for dating advice. I told him he would be better served looking elsewhere. I quickly vented my scenario: I could make this job work, try to make this city work for me and get a dog. Getting a weimereiner will make me less selfish, make me focus on the needs of others. OR - I could try for that journalism job in Oregon, get paid shit and risk going hellishly into a debt that I may not be able to recover from. OR - move to Tucson with no job, work at a Target until I get a job and start a new life. Whenever I've been in Tucson, I've felt like I'm truly at home. No restlessness. No self doubt. No past to run away from.

I keep thinking of two episodes of the great FOX show, House. The first example comes when Dr. House decides to break off an affair with his ex. He does it because he knows this woman can't change him and he would make her miserable after those first few great months of the relationship wear off. His best friend calls him out on this martyrdom, saying "You think being miserable makes you special, but really, it doesn't make you special, it makes you miserable." The second episode comes from an episode where pathological liar Cynthia Nixon has an undiagnosed illness. She moved to the new city without a job. So House said "If she moved without a job, she didn't move to a new city, she escaped from somewhere" (or something like that).

ANYWAY - driving back from the Homy Inn, the B-52s "Roam" came on.
"Roam if you want to/roam around the world/roam if you want to/without anything but the love we feel." Cheesy, yes, but letting that chorus actually AFFECT me, it was a release. No matter how I look at it, whenever I talk about moving, stress goes away. Things start to come into focus. Stuff starts making sense. So - that is what I'll be focusing on in the next two months - getting the hell out of here. It may not be the answer, but it's movement.

In the words of Fiona Apple:
"My methods are uncertain/ it's a mess, but it's working."

Preemptive strike

No one but myself tonight.


Post a Comment

<< Home