decisions, decisions…
I've never been a big one for change. I prefer the comfort of the mundane to this so-called "excitement" of change. So when facing down this giant decision whether to accept a new job in San Francisco, I'm filled with an anxiety that transcends the emotional. It's nauseating.
On the one hand, I need a change of scenery. I'm profoundly unhappy here at the moment, and there's really just more of the same on the horizon. Ironically, I am about to complain that my life is one big cycle, wherein I wake up, go to work, do some stuff, come home, do very little, go to bed. All the while being fat. Yeah, that's my life. This would seem satisfactorily mundane to the untrained eye, which might miss the nuance of suckage that's built-in. I contribute this to very low self-esteem, which is less of a lament and more of an unconcerned observation. The problem is that self-esteem is not a lease you can break, a wardrobe you can consider, or lost on a new route to work. It's most certainly something you take with you when, incidentally, you leave behind the comfortable -if suckably mundane- support structure you've come to know and love. That's the one hand.
On the other hand, my low self-esteem has a lot to do, I think, with my continued existence in this all-too-pretty, all-too-young town. And single. I'm out of my element. In a gloriously outfitted apartment, to be sure, but alone all the same. There's also the exchange of one job for another, and one region for another, where I may find myself in an environment more conducive to the self-improvement I long for. And who knows, it could be fun.
There's a lot more to this but, I'm not feeling it right now. I've go to go think. My next post on the matter will (hopefully) not be so sappy.
