No Title

It's hard for me to come up with a title for this post, because a lot of what's going on can't accurately describe the vast emotions I'm feeling. For everything that's going on, for what has come to be and will be, and for the adventure I'm about to embark on, I can only say that I'm just getting started. And to put a title on something so nascent and burgeoning seems a little premature.

I've been waiting to inform my bosses, friends and family before posting anything too suggestive online, but it's true...I'm leaving. Moving. Putting this town in my rear-view. I'm uprooting and moving half-way across the country. This certainly isn't anything ghastly or unheard of, but for somebody like me, this is a big deal.

My decision has been born out of a number of circumstances this past year. To put it lightly, it's been a tough year. I hate to sound like a crybaby, as I know there are people on Earth suffering from genocide, war, intolerance, injustice, hate, starvation and the like, but these are my opinions, and I'm entitled to them.

Growing up in this dwindling economic culture is squandering my ability to accurately foresee where I will be when people ask that age old question, "Where do you see yourself in ten years?" Not that I ever found much pertinence in a question like that to begin with, coming from the school of believers where the answer to the question "If a tree falls in a forest and nobody is around to hear it, does it make a sound?" is a firm "No." Times have been economically tough and young people our age are being as pliant as they can in such a debilitating environment. It's hard for us to land a job, let alone one with salary and benefits. If you do, good for you, but the rest of us are stuck working hourly jobs, or worse, our high school jobs.

No disrespect to my current job. I recently read The Last Lecture by Randy Pausch, and he offered an interesting perspective on young people and their drive to succeed. He constantly reiterated the point that no job is above you. So, folks, as you toil away at your minimum-wage paying job in your 20s, just remember, you're lucky to even have one. Sarcasm aside, the scary part is that it's true. Speaking with a friend, he said we are living through the worst economic times since the depression, and our parents and even grandparents can't begin to fathom, let alone appreciate the world we live in. We are a walking dichotomy: We were sent to college, spent tens of thousands of dollars in order for us to be savant enough to land a good paying job. Instead we are left in a tremendous amount of debt, competing for hourly jobs and fighting over the last chicken bone at dinner (if we can even afford to go out to eat). Our parent's can't understand why we aren't succeeding, but can merely sit backseat, make presumptions, accusations and comments while force-feeding life's lessons down our throats as we live in their basements. They aren't happy about it, but they are doing what these economic times deem necessary.

We aren't crybabies or whiners. Everyone should take a moment and give themselves a pat on the back for making it through an increasingly depressed, depraved and destitute time. We now live in a time where a front-page spread of a homicide in our own backyard elicits the response of a head shake and the phrase, "This is how people get when they're not working." We should all take a moment and appreciate our circumstances, whether they be the most desirable or not. Although this rant seems to be horribly depressing, it's really meant to get whoever reads this to look around at your circumstances and try not to feel bad right now. We truly are doing the best we can.

That being big reason number one this year has fallen short of "happy" for a lot of people, reason number two is closely associated with it. I worked my first job out of college, and it turned out to be something completely different than what I expected. Office life in general is hard to come to terms with, but pair that with being strung along and milked for all your worth and you can now understand a fraction of what the job force feels like these days. It was a long and experience. It made memorizing GRE vocabulary words for 8 hours look like a walk in the park. Working my internship made me think everyday, "If this is the real-world, I want nothing of it." Is that wrong? Absolutely not. I struggled for quite a while, trying to suck it up, forcing myself onto a career I:
A. Didn't want
B. Lied to myself about, believing all the injustices were personal

Let's be honest. Most people with my degree or any grammar skills could have done my job. I tricked myself into believing I was one of the lucky, the few and the proud, fortuitous enough to stumble upon full-time employment after graduation. The insight I had lacked, however, was the fact that NOBODY owed me a living. No one, not even my current employer. I had to work for it. And I had to work hard. Near the end I learned that lesson. I learned that hard work spawns recognition in the workplace. I also swallowed the jagged little pill that recognition in this day in age doesn't even mean a raise or benefits. Outfitted with this knowledge and a seemingly keen sense of direction, I left that job. Needless to say, it left a bitter taste in my mouth.

Another reason why this year straight up sucked is because I was still recovering from heartbreak. It's all the usual crap here: Unfair, stupid, banal. I'd bore you with the details, but opening that can of worms this late in the game is futile. But rest assured, a lot of my year sucked, and some days continue to suck (not nearly as bad as they used to) because of one person.

So for all of these reasons and a few more, I decided to leave. I am turning my nose up to the shitty hand I was dealt here in hopes for new surroundings, new people and new experiences. I am young enough, smart enough and agile enough to hack it on my own and I know it. I have some money in the bank, and hell, I'm going to stimulate the economy by using it. I have no kids, no husband, no boyfriend, career, house, or basically any assets to speak of. I am a young person fueled by my ambitions, and that should be reason enough for anyone who responds "Why?" to "I'm moving."

I feel a little bit like a punk with no direction, pompous and inflated in all that I'm saying and projecting for myself. And maybe I am. I am a pretty humble person, but I call bullshit when I see it, and lately there has been so much of it circling around, I just want to get away from it. Maybe it's the economy (Me: "Ryland, is money what the proverbial "IT"'s all about? Ryland: "Yes."), maybe it's the weather, but for whatever reason it is, my decision is made, planned and nearly executed without any major snafus. My time has come and I'm going to take it, dammit! So don't act sorry or sad for me for spending my money, abandoning all I've known and potentially failing. I've thought all this through for many days and hours, and I decided the risk is worth it.

Without further ado, I am moving to Philadelphia. It's in a great location for me to do a bit of traveling. I'd love to go back and spend some time in New York and see how I like it. I've been dying to visit Boston, have yet to see my sister Bree in Vermont, and would like to spend some quality time in D.C. I am itching to discover the east coast, its mentality and ebb and flow. I want to see Cape Cod. I want to go to Maine and see what inspired Steven King. I want to visit Le Halles restaurant in NYC, the renowned restaurant of travel guru, writer, and my personal hero, Anthony Bourdain. And, I want to concentrate on living on my own, paying for my own way, seeing the great city of Philly and enjoying the art and live music scene, and basically stretching my legs in a new area. I'm nervous, scared and excited.

The adventure starts October 20th.

Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off--then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can.

         -Herman Melville, Moby Dick