So apparently I posted that last blog twice. Here’s to internet fails. I’m also gonna try not to aim for obnoxious humor this time around. Let’s see how long that lasts, I’m guessing about two hundred and thirty seven words.
Maybe one of the grown ups can help me with this. The other day I was talking to my sisters (only one of which is actually related to me), and I got this feeling that, given any small amount of choice in the matter, I’m never moving back to California again. Ever. More specifically, I’m never living around family again. Does that make me a bad person?
The conversation was one of those “what are you doing with your life” interrogations, which sibling tends to give me way more than is necessary. Throw in a little bit of “why are you moving in with your girlfriend” crabbiness and it was just a grand old time.
My sister, as far as I know, has never even entertained the idea of living anywhere but a stone’s throw from our parents’ house. And by stone’s throw I men two hour drive. She went from San Francisco to the parental residence to her boyfriend’s house (which is like three miles down the road). Not exactly a world traveler, that one.
She also tends to get all bent out of shape when I tell her I ave no intention of moving back to the Golden State, and even more upset when I list places that are at least a two hour plane ride from her. Part of that, I’m sure is protective older sister syndrome, so it isn’t a major crime. But it does make me think I’m a little bit…off. That’s probably the only way I know how to phrase it.
Is that normal? I know there’s the expected branching out phase when you first move out, but it’s been five years, which I think is a bit too long for a phase. I can only think of one other person I know that is actively opposed to moving back to Cali, but she lives in Hawaii, which I wouldn’t want to leave either.
Not that I don’t like my family—they have their moments. My dad and I went a whole ten days without getting into a row last time I was down there. Had to have been a post 2006 record. Not that we don’t get along, we just tend to agree with one another better when we’re not sleeping under the same roof. That actually doesn’t concern me, morally speaking.
What concerns me is this need I seem to have about family and distance. I’d really like to think this is just a twenty-three year old male thing, but pretty much everyone I know lives in the same town as their parentals, and quite a few of them share an address, which makes me think I’m weird. Not that I have no intention of ever seeing them again, I just have this overwhelming desire to live some place where they are physically incapable of surprising me at my doorstep.
So to all the grown ups: is that weird?