Dos.

The debut of 'OZ' was this past weekend and I hear it's all about how James Franco became the wizard of OZ. Yesterday marked my two year anniversary of when I found myself in the Emerald City as well, although not in the capacity of a wizard [some may beg to disagree and I'm okay with that]. My route didn't entail a yellow brick road, but it did involve courage, heart, smarts and the realization that there really is no place like home.

Okay, enough with the Wizard of Oz metaphor.

Moving is difficult. Especially when most of the people you care about are within a 15 mile radius of you. How conveniently spoiled I was to be able to get to one side of town to the other in 30 minutes or less in Portland "traffic." Ahh, I do miss what is considered traffic in Portland. So why remove myself from the coziest of comfort zones? I didn't move for a job, for a relationship or any concrete reason that most people that move have, except that every single day I woke up and did the same thing, I wondered what else I could be doing if I were somewhere else. After four years of feeling that way, I did something about it because pretty soon, I knew I wouldn't. 

So I did. I realized my fears that I had before moving wouldn't disappear; I'd just have to do things that challenged me which I wasn't really put in the position to do before. Here I was in a city where I had just as many friends as I had fingers [maybe less at the time], so I had to make an effort to involve myself. Or to do things alone. Not always did I want to have solo dates, which have been commonplace for me, but sometimes there wasn't an option. If I wanted to go try a new restaurant and my contact list of 5 had been exhausted, I 'd go alone. And what I realized about this is the silliness of what some of our perceptions are of being alone in public. Some people deeply fear the notion of having a sit-down meal by themselves. A book can be some of the best company [much better than someone sitting across from you that is more involved in their relationship with their Facebook application than in considering the conversation that you're having with them]. "Awkward" has become one of the most overused words in the English language. Maybe that's because we fear any scenario that is the slightest bit uncomfortable that we chalk it up with the word awkward and avoid it like Bloomberg does 16 ounce sodas. But I believe growth can come from discomfort.

One of these times I found myself in an unfamiliar environment, was when I voluntarily took a ballet class with my non-ballerina bod at 26. I hadn't taken ballet since I was probably 6 or 7. At that age you haven't developed your soccer thighs or much of any body, so it's much easier to maneuver yourself.
I had decided this class would be an excellent idea as it was marketed as an introductory ballet class, but when I walked in on the first day to a 96 pound Asian girl with her right leg held straight up in the air as her left foot rested on the ground, I knew this was anything but. This is one of those classes that people use as a 'warm-up' before their super-advanced night class, I thought. Needless to say when class started, they all broke into the "routine" while I fumbled in my new slippers I had sewn the night before and tried not to trip on any lose thread or an unexpected strap from my poor sewing job. It was an awful first day, but I went back every week to continually make a fool/improve my ballet game. By the last class that fell on my 27th birthday, I knew that damn routine.

There were actual lousy times where I had legitimate reason to be angry, like when my first apartment flooded 6 months after I moved in and I reconsidered everything. Seattle obviously hated me so much it wouldn't only rain outside, it would defy the very definition of shelter and rain inside my apartment to kick me out. Well played, Seattle. But I have more game than you and the Sounders [Go Timbers! Go Sounders? I'm so confused on my alliances].

I found a little place where I was sold by the rooftop view of the city. This is where I probably should be. And it was done. I'd found a new home and I love my little corner of the world. I love that I can greet it in the morning or evening with a skyline view or take my run down to Gasworks Park or walk somewhere for dinner or happy hour. This was the city life I had wanted.

[Home]

There are no greater messages here; no hypodermic theory that applies for all. There's nothing extraordinary about this story as I know people who have moved much further from their homes either willingly or forcefully. However, I do know that life is too short to wake up everyday with something weighing on you and consistently asking yourself "if." If you are staying a part of something for comfort and comfort only, reconsider. There is great beauty in taking risks and believing that you are awesome enough to seek and succeed in doing something new. It's even greater if you have people on your side that encourage and support [and visit!] you through a transition.

There is no place like home. And in case you hadn't noticed, Seattle can't be spelled without
'T-E-E-L-A.'