Today is the one-year anniversary of the point in my life where everything started moving really, really fast.
Happy Saint Patrick’s Day!
On a whim, 365 days and a couple of weeks ago, I applied for a job in San Francisco, California, one evening when I should’ve been writing a philosophy paper. I had illusions of grandeur and major procrastination issues working in my favour, and to my great happiness I got a very positive response. I flew out of Detroit Metro Airport and landed at SFO the day before Saint Patrick’s Day, 2007. I’d never been to California before, or, hell, to a serious job interview before. I had to talk my way into being hired in retail a few times, but that’s it.
I remember feeling unprepared. I wore a blue suitcoat and tan pants, with a tie that made me look as young as I must have felt - schoolboy stripes all across. My university’s colours, however unintended. I had convinced one of my professors to give me an extension on a major paper, and I figured I’d have to spend some time writing it in my hotel. When we landed, I decided it would probably be best if it just waited until I got home to Windsor.
San Francisco can be a very intimidating place. It’s very urban compared to what I was used to - suburbs the light fantastic. The only truly urban place around Windsor, that is to say, Detroit, wasn’t the sort of place you’d feel alright walking around most nights. I was running late, and didn’t bother to check in at the hotel - I took a cab to the pier where the interview was taking place.
It took four hours, and it was done. I felt good about it. I went back to the hotel and ordered a steak at the restaurant downstairs, and then I walked around chinatown for a spell. I started noticing that things had been sped up - I didn’t much care to sit around anymore. I walked from the financial district to fisherman’s wharf, and back town into tenderloin where I proceeded to look for apartments (note: city is expensive - even in tenderloin).
I was in SF for long enough to envy it, but there was no semblance of “home” there; it felt like I was living in a new-age sitcom. Everybody seemed happy and the city seemed too clean. Even the shitty areas of town had some sort of glint to them that felt appealing, but not familiar of comfortable.
Back in Windsor, a few weeks later I found out that I didn’t get the job. I was bummed out, and part of me thought that moving so far away was beyond my means anyhow, but I kept an eye out for the things that interested me, with a few more interviews along the way. Things had changed, and I didn’t feel like I belonged as a student anymore. I graduated with my best grades of any of my undergraduate years. The day after my very last exam, I was at an interview in Phoenix, got hired, and the rest is the rest. Things never slowed down. I still feel a bit alienated here. Even if they wanted to, most of my friends couldn’t pack up and move to Phoenix to be with me here - I hear they’re not even taking new dual citizenship applicants anymore. But, I couldn’t be happier with my job or the pace at which things are moving. Change moves fast, and I’ve learned to appreciate that.