Lost

bryant parkOne of the many questions I got asked this weekend was why the hell I still live in the sticks. It’s not necessarily an insensitive question; I could live anywhere with my current job. After I got the job I moved back to Lincoln, happy to be off Frosty’s couch (thanks bud). I still have friends in Lincoln and figured I could hang out for at least another year before I decided where to go.

It still feels kind of odd though. I’ve travelled a lot in the last year and not really felt like I wanted to stay any particular place: NYC (x2), San Francisco, San Diego, DC, Las Vegas. Cities often considered magical places of wonder and enchantment, but to me it’s been kinda meh.

I often say that “I hate people”. It’s a joke and always requires explanation that no, I’m perfectly friendly with people I’ve been introduced to. The large masses of unknown people really get to me though. After a week in this town, I was ready to go home. I missed it. I want to step out of my door, trip and land on grass. I want to stand up and not have the building across the street in my face. I want to drive for five minutes and be buried in the countryside.

Where I live is really a minor part of the recent “what the hell comes next” feeling I’ve been having. I’ve stumbled into most of the amazing opportunities I’ve had so far. So, maybe I’m worrying about life a little too much. I should be excited about whatever’s next, but I can’t seem to shake this.

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