The Piscean Princess Extravaganza (you can read about that here) was a raging success. So much so that when I returned home to San Jose from Santa Monica — I knew I didn’t live here anymore.
There’s post-vacation funk and then there’s you’ve-seen-where-you-are-supposed-to-be-and-now-you-are-not-there….funk.
I’ve been planning my exit strategy from San Jose for awhile now — I was never a fangirl of it — and now that the Incredible Exploding Marriage is behind me, there is nothing keeping me here (except for my brilliant evil genius Jillian — Scarecrow, I will miss you most of all!)
It’s been a toss up between NYC and Santa Monica for my next destination — and my birthday trip was the tie breaker. My concern about Santa Monica was that it might be full of plastic hipster posers with the combined depth of a paddling pool. I was wrong. Santa Monica was the funkiest, friendliest place I’ve been in quite some time and everywhere I went people wanted to play with me. (Do NOT try this in San Jose).
It’s where the girl with the pink hair, with the whimsical heart, who believes in magic lives.
I could pine away for Santa Monica for another three months. Or I could make it happen now.
I gave my landlord my notice. Created the plan and the to-do list to end all to-do lists to move to Santa Monica in 30 days. I can do anything I set my mind to and I’m no stranger to leaping before the net appears. Only this time, it appeared that not only was there no net…but the ground disappeared as well. Sort of like jumping in to a vortex. Yay?
The universe was unimpressed with my fancy Post-it Note countdown calendar on the wall. And sort of laughed in my face. Well, more accurately…it stuck out its foot, tripped me, kicked sand in my eye…and then laughed in my face.
I was in the belly of the Rabbit Hole — no ground in sight, with seemingly no control over the next move + weirdo Craigslist villains jumping out from the shadows at me. Wheeee!
It really sucks to know what you want to do — and not be able to make other people cooperate the way you need them to. And it never ceases to baffle me when people don’t act like good humans. (FYI Born-Again fellow on Craigslist — you can’t say you’re a good human while you are trying to swindle me out of money for an apartment that doesn’t exist. C’est tres gauche.)
Having numerous decisions weighing on where I’ll be living in 3 weeks — while not actually having a place to live in three weeks and starting to have stress nightmares in which I was lungeing out of a dead sleep to save someone from being shot in the head (wtf!?)…I had to be reminded:
Breathe. You are OK. Nothing is wrong. (but, maybe….lay off the caffeine for the time being)
I took a mental health day…
And the Two-Suitcase Project was born.
The main premise being to boil my life down in to two suitcases…and just go. I can make anything happen and I don’t need other people to act the way I want them to for that to happen — basically… I can “rescue my own damn self”.
Without trying to have it all figured out right-this-instant and trying to carry my entire (old) life on my back I can let it go and embrace the adventure. And thanks to the magic of AirBnb I get to have a place to land, meet new people and explore a few different pockets of the Santa Monica area before finding my just-right place.
Can she boil her life and her business down in to two suitcases? Stay tuned!
In the meantime, I’ll be kicking it with the universe over a delicious beverage and laughing about that time it kicked sand in my eye.