State of Motionlessness
Restlessness might be a curse, but there is an excitement in the newness of beginning again. Challenges are always worthwhile until they too, become mundane and unoriginal in their familiarity.
Being young and having no real commitments, like a relationship, vehicle insurance, a cat (sadly), or a career to hold you in place, grants you the flexibility to bounce from city to city as you please.
Unconventionally, I did get one of those relationship things, and it’s been wonderful. He unlike me, is quite established in his career. He loves what he does and he’s good at it. He like me is in his twenties and hasn’t felt the need to commit to long-term life plans. He unlike me, has seen so much of the world already and still, like me he feels comfort in wandering. We wear the shoes of transients, but we don’t wander aimlessly.
Currently, we reside in Vancouver B.C. as temporary residents, him more long term than I. His two-year work visa is about to expire, and we don’t know if we’ll be dressing up as Neo and Trinity for Halloween, or gearing up for the snow season. We don’t know what’s next, or if there will be a next.
This is my favorite time of year and my expectations are being stunted. I’m finally in a city with more regular seasons, although its unsure how many seasons we’ll get. I love the colors of the maples here in Autumn and the whispy fog that hangs low in the mountains. We halfheartedly talk of plans that may or may not be possible. It’s hard to describe this feeling of the unknown. I want him to carve his first pumpkin with me and eat latkes with my family on Hanukkah.
This is a new kind of restlessness that I’m not extremely familiar with. This feeling is exhausting immobility. How can that be? Although we pride ourselves on living in the moment, the inability to see what the next month will look like is uncomfortably gnawing at my bones and draining our bodies of any energy to stay hopeful.
After more than a year of long-distance dating, we finally set up a quaint life together here in Canada. We built cheap IKEA furniture and hung my pictures on the walls. I have a couple of house plants growing in the windows and I still neglect my guitar, although it makes for good decor. We have as much as we need, and it feels like home.
Although we both agreed it would be our temporary home, the foreboding unknown isn’t allowing us to fully enjoy ourselves while we can. He checks his status to his extension daily, and we sit in tense silence whenever we talk about crossing the border approaching his leave.
Maybe this current restlessness is so magnified by our prior prolonged absence from each other’s day to day life. Maybe now, we both want to settle down more than we want to admit. We are desperate for a sense of stability, now that our transience is being seriously threatened.
…
I often find myself imagining my life in other places, other cities, and other countries. I don’t see several years at a time, just moments.
I can picture myself in a couple of years, with a more defined career path and determination, running around New York City, sitting in Central Park on a blanket with bare feet in the grass. Smooshed in a tiny apartment upstate, I’d struggle to get freelance writing work, but maybe I’d sing at local coffee shops and bars on the side. In the winter I’d avoid taking the Subway, and take long walks on the freshly covered, snowy sidewalks, bundled from head to toe.
I can picture myself in Seattle, much like here in Vancouver, bustling with international hopefuls who are wanting to grow as fast as the industries within it. Rain and cranes would hang in the approaching skyline as I sit in stop and go traffic over the toll bridges. I could work for an independent record label where musicians aren’t valued just for their success. I could help scout talent and manage bands, do some A&R work, all that music industry jazz.
I can picture myself back in San Francisco, writing copy for a tech company. I’d be somewhat out of place, but I’d be moderately satisfied with the regular routine that an office job guarantees. I’d wear a lot of black clothing and stone jewelry. I’d take Bart from outside of the city because even with a steady job, I couldn’t afford an apartment that I like.
From what I’ve learned about Australia, I could picture myself there too. Lush forests and long beaches. Giant insects. I could maintain a nice, golden glow on my skin. I’m not sure what I’d do there, but I’ve heard the minimum wage is half decent. Maybe I’d work at a pub with other international humans. From there I’d travel and travel and travel…
I’m not sure what image I had of myself here in Vancouver. I was ambitious that finding a writing job would be easy. Honestly, it has been difficult, but I’m still working on it. Now that I’ve gotten a Canadian debit card and a Canadian phone number, things are feeling more serious than my regular two-week trips here every two months. Right now, I’m looking forward to Autumn and the rainy winter. I can picture us grabbing late-night ramen and heading to our favorite bakery for hot cider. We agreed we’d do our best to make it down to the beach by the bay at least once a week, rain or shine. We’d walk close through Stanley Park with gloved hands intertwined. We’d do some brewery hopping over the weekend, and spend the entirety of the following day beneath the covers with the heat on high, eating Mr. Noodles and frozen pepperoni pizza, watching Hocus Pocus until we fall asleep.
…
Although I have rich roots and support in California, I haven’t allowed any roots of my own to grow over the past few years. It takes time for an established tree to gain all of its viable nutrients from its surroundings before it even begins to sprout.
I began in San Francisco with the delusion that if I studied music it might become my life. I dreamt that singing would take a hold of me, wrapping its arms around me and caring for me. If I could just get my feet in the door and test the waters, maybe I would take flight instead of drowning. I was hoping for hidden passions to devour me, but I was spat out. I lacked sincere motivation and the ability to prioritize my studies and my drinking. Ultimately it wasn’t the right fit for me, maybe another time, another life. I still miss banging on the keys in the soundproof piano rooms and singing my heart out, surrounded by other students doing the same. Only the piano could hear.
College would not have been the same without the girls I met in the dorms. Some of us got a house together in the Sunset District for our second year. We had a floral chair that sat in front of big windows and we had a large wall of printed photos displayed from our disposable cameras. We all wore black over the knee socks and converse. One of the girls had a record player and an impressive collection of music. We drank a bottle of wine each and danced around the house with the music loud. Public transport gave us ultimate access to exploring the city, and a good way to publicly pregame en route to parties. We still keep in touch, not as much as I’d like to, but I’m hoping for a grand reunion soon.
Next, I moved to the southern part of the state and it was more of the same. I thought I might be exposed to more of a music scene and tanner, surfer boys. The later was accurate.
I got a taste of the music industry in Los Angeles and some ideas of what I might like to be doing down the road. I should have listened to my mother when she harassed me to find internships for the duration of my educational career. I didn’t head her warnings seriously and now as a fresh college grad, it’s biting me in the butt. At the time, I was still more concerned about vodka. I became a super senior and was finally gifted my degree, as well as the freedom to leave Los Angeles. Right before I moved to Vancouver, I did find an amazing band partner who kindled a little fire in my throat and creative tendencies. It was great while it lasted.
Over the years I lived in different parts of the city and got to know hidden gems and the dark corners to avoid. I met beautiful people. It’s true that everyone in Los Angeles is gorgeous. It’s a colorful city, where cultures live harmoniously through food, music, and art. Everyone is an actor or working in entertainment in one way or another. LA has this overwhelming feeling that you can be anyone and you can do anything. Housing in Los Angeles was a memorable experience that I would like to forget. We nicknamed our house on Kelton Ave “the Sleighbarn,” and it was more than worthy of the name. The house was falling apart in every way possible, but somehow it still felt like home. What I can remember was so unbelievably, dysfunctionally fun.
I hit a hard, brick layered, concrete wall when I turned 22, both literally and metaphorically. I toned down, and my body and my friends thanked me. I attempted to transition to a more mellow, write poetry, do crafts, stay in on weekends lifestyle, and I still love it! I have more money, I have more time, I have less regret. Moving away from the college town bubble and near the beach was what I needed all along. Our house was cozy and I liked the way the salty, coastal winds blew through our open windows. Superficially Los Angeles is a beautiful city, but for me, it was lacking the true soul that I was craving.
It’s been less than two months now since I left, and I miss all of my sunny friends. I miss Cabo Cantina 2 for 1 happy hour, but mostly their loaded nachos. I miss driving down PCH and the spicy mango man. I miss ice cream cones on Abbot Kinney and summer concerts beneath the Santa Monica Pier. I’ve yet to have a final last meal at In N Out Burger. I miss buying avocados and almond butter.
After three years in Southern California, I traveled up the state by car and managed to cross the Canadian border without any trouble, minus my good friend and chauffeur attempting to hit on/joke with the patrol guard. We packed my few adult life’s possessions in the car. We were paranoid about the border doing our best to eat all of the pistachios and hide the fruit in the car, but we managed just fine, aside from a little four-car fender bender in WA.
Here I am now over a month in a new country, with a full-time relationship, sharing a little apartment by the bay, and we are happy as clams. The job situation hasn’t gone as smoothly as planned and I am still scrambling to find something worthy of me or rather me of it, with my minimal work experience.
Finishing school I will say has been the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time. With all of this free time, I have more time to do the things that excite me like music and writing. I’ve never felt more creative than I do now. I’ve also never felt more limited than I do now.
Originally published at http://hannahharlachersite.wordpress.com on October 5, 2017.
