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Seven Year Itch

If time is any indicator, it’s probably time for me to pack it in, guys. I mean, come on, it’s been seven years in one city and I’m out of a job. A fresh start, based on my nomadic history, is probably in the cards? A few colleges in a few states, 40-50 different addresses since I became an adult, to say that I’ve yet to establish roots is an understatement.

And all everyone here talks about is how great it is. It’s ridiculously expensive. I pay three times what I would back home for a place the same size. The beaches? I’m not a fan.


I hate sand and I hate crowds, and I hate things swimming around my feet, possibly killing me. And how many taco shops can one frequent? The laid back, “I’ll show up when I’m ready” lifestyle? Come on.

I’m too type A for this place.

There’s no way I’m leaving this town. Yes, I’ve moved so much in my life and yes things here are less than perfect, but they’re perfect for me.

It’s true….I don’t really like the beach, but I love knowing it’s there when I need it. It’s expensive, yes, but look where we live. Drive up the coast and look at Swami’s while the sun is setting. And I’ll finally admit something: I love the Mexican food here, finally. Too much. And while I remain very Type A and punctual, there’s something endearing about the people who just go with the flow.

Since I’ve moved here, I’ve learned to be more accepting, more tolerant. I’ve been happier. I’ve made lifelong friends. I landed that California Girl that I dreamed about. I have formed a sense of community that I’ve never had before. So yes, San Diego, I’m in you. And I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me.