It’s been just over two weeks since I landed in San Diego, and I’m so grateful to have a space to stay with a pretty rad bestie as I figure out my life. We’ve had fun – staying up late, cooking delicious meals, and laughing like a couple of teenagers. And in all of this, real life has still been nipping at my heels as I got to work, looking for a way to fund my little run-around habit.
The last two weeks have seen me sit for about a dozen interviews. I put on my best voice for phone conversations, with a concerted effort not to swear. I dressed in my most professional blouse for zoom meetings, while Trixie sat on my pajama-clad lap. And I wore the nicest (and only) “hire me” garb I own when meeting potential employers IRL. And all told, ugh.
While interviewing has ultimately gone well, it shouldn’t have surprised me that I began to feel depressed – like I was ignoring my goals, and settling into a life here without consideration of the future of trippin’.
Meanwhile, I began feeling comfortable – too comfortable. Not as in a guest-overstaying-her-welcome comfortable – I don’t think anyway, Sarah may have something else to say about that – but rather as in maybe-I’ll-settle-down-in-SD comfortable. A new place, a new life – just as I called for. Maybe, I’ve considered, San Diego actually is the new place, the new life? Why not?
Plans change, and I’m a big believer in rolling with the punches as they do. Still, it didn’t seem like there were any punches, and not much rolling for that matter. Is this it? Am I done trippin’ with Trixie?
So, as I’ve had to do several times already, I am reaffirming and realigning with my goals. After idling about in fear for a week or so last month, I successfully made it out of Portland, and off on the first leg of my journey. And while I’m certain I can do it again, this making life changes thing ain’t for sissies.
I’m excited that I’ve landed a banquet server job – one where I not only set my own schedule, but have the opportunity to work in Arizona and Texas in addition to Southern California. This is ideal for me – I can check out SoCal for a while, and then hit the road for more adventures. The universe brought me Q-tips, as I’m fond of saying – and if you don’t know what I’m talking about, you can catch up here.
So, here I go, on track with my vision, working toward hitting the road again soon. Wish me luck as I learn to carry a big oval tray filled with dishes without spilling or tripping – the latter which I’m known for at Maxwell’s – and to articulate myself politely and respectfully, rather than with my typical 15-year-old-boy sense of humor. And I’m off – starched shirt, no piercings, no swearing. Can you believe that shit?