New Year, New Home

Greetings and happy 2006 from my new city of residence. After finally making my long-desired move, I am settling in to my new San Francisco digs, thrilled beyond the realm of human thrill to have returned to city life. Oh, how I missed you, crowded sidewalks, street noise, diversity, literacy, accessibility, pedestrians, mass transit, restaurants open after 9pm. And that disheveled gent walking behind me down the street last night shouting gruffly, "Dick! Anyone want some dick? Who wants some dick? Dick! Dick! Dick!" Bless it all.

Sorry for the stock photo; I'll take some of my own as soon as I recharge my camera.

The sound of traffic passing beneath my third-story window at night lulls me to sleep like crickets and ocean waves do others. Peering out my blinds and seeing not dark, silent stillness but buildings, lights, cars and people fills me with a sense of calm and ease that only city life could. I belong here.

Despite my anxiousness to flee, my time in Humboldt was not at all ill-spent. I desperately needed the opportunity to decompress after six years in NYC. I needed that closeness to nature, that quiet coastal life, that unmistakable small-town rhythm. I needed it and I benefitted tremendously from it, leaving there healthier than I'd been in years, armed with some amazing experiences and beloved friends. I've physically left my life there, but have taken with me those aspects I could not part with (my darling friends) and still require (the job I enjoyed, which, thankfully, I get to continue doing on a freelance basis).

I'm a longtime fan of Dominick Dunne's monthly contribution to Vanity Fair. In December's issue, Dunne mentions a letter he received from Truman Capote during a particularly difficult time in Dunne's life when he isolated himself in a one-room Oregon cabin for six months. Capote wrote: "Remember this, that is not where you belong and when you get out of it what you went there to get, you have to come back to your own life." Which is precisely how I feel about my 22 months in Humboldt and the chapter I'm entering now.

Now that the hellacious move is behind me and I'm settling in, the transition period begins yet again. And, as it was upon my move to Manhattan in 1998, it is a transition I've longed to make for years. Yes, the move to San Francisco is a long time coming, something I'd considered quite often before leaving New York, something I feel has been inevitable since my first visit here when I was 19 and accompanied my friend Patrick on a whirlwind, two-day trip during which I decided with some certainty that I wanted to live here someday.

Back to today. Exploring a new city is near the top of my "Shit I Like to Do" list (admit it, you have one, too). Wandering unfamiliar streets, making mental notes of where to find the nearest grocery store, coffee shop, gym, dry cleaner, post office, bank, dive bar. Getting lost, eager to avoid the shame of pulling out a city map to re-orient myself, but choosing rather to just fucking figure it out. Wandering, exploring, investigating, discovering... I only wish a city could always be new and that the thrill of exploration never had to fade along with the realization that no one fucking knows you exist.

Along with my triumph return to the concrete jungle comes new challenges, including the grizzly bear on my back that is graduate school. My path remains unclear, but classes begin soon and the idea of being a student after eight years outside the academic world is slightly terrifying. But I'm excited for the challenge, for the chance to feed my brain in a structured setting, to impress my professors with witty papers not at all purchased on eBay. And I know full well how lucky I am to have this opportunity, no matter how many hours I have to put in at the local "massage parlor" to pay for it.

Luck is something I plan NOT to take for granted in 2006, or ever. However we may whine about our misfortunes, I have learned to recognize how very minor they are in comparison with the millions in the world who would consider our lives the pinnacle of luxury compared to their daily struggle for sustenance. As I embark on a new adventure equipped with every damn thing I need to live a happy, healthy, secure life, I count my blessings. This I'll do every day of 2006 and every year that follows.

Here's to a peaceful year.

Posted by ayelet at January 3, 2006 10:19 AM