And Then I Went To Santiago…

For graduation from my MFA program my dad wanted to get me a tropical beach-type vacation (he and his wife are obsessed with Aruba). I chose to go to Santiago, Chile instead, to visit my college roommate — she is from there and is living there again with her boyfriend who is also Californian. I live in Huntington Beach, right in the middle of the burbs and really enjoy trips to big cities more than anything. New York, Chicago, Seattle, San Francisco, Boston, Washington D.C., London, Barcelona, Bogota. I don’t travel much but these are some of the places I’ve been.

For three weeks I looked at art and wrote and read. Listened to music while walking aimlessly and missed my boyfriend. It felt good to miss someone.

I’m glad I went. I ended up writing over 15,000 words. Scribbled notes in a little notebook and did some drawings. Decided that I want to learn how to draw, just for fun.

It was great to see D. We were roommates for about four years and haven’t spent much time together since she moved. We’re both 30 now and everything is different. Not good or bad. Just different. But our friendship feels the same.

I’m not good at keeping in touch with people. I don’t really talk to anyone from high school except my one friend. I’ve fallen away from a lot of people I went to college with, I even owe a few emails and phone calls to some of the people I just went to grad school with. In some ways it seems like a natural progression, you grow up, get a job-job, start a family and the circle gets narrowed down to the essentials.

But I haven’t really done any of these life things besides the narrowing down part. It used to bother me but it doesn’t anymore. I like my small life. It’s quiet. Relaxed. Simple. And it hasn’t always been like that.

I think being away forces you to think about what home is and what is waiting for you there, whether you have something good to go back too. There is something sort of sad about going on vacation and not to wanting to come back. I’ve felt that way before. But this time I’m happy to be back and happy to have a place that feels like home. And I’m trying to appreciate that. Things are good.


D tried to take an author-y photo of me, this is the closest we got…

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