Last night I hung out with one of my best friends, Sara. She is in her mid-20s, but we never even consider the age difference. She is a magical, bubbly person who is more positive than anyone I know, so hanging out with her is righteous fun. Not to mention, she likes to party. A lot. She’s from Southern California originally, but when she lived in Seattle during my senior year of high school, her house was four blocks away from mine. I had a friend, over 21, four blocks from my house—this was a very convenient party situation, during the time of my life when I most wanted to party (mostly as a way to distract from how stressful senior year was). Whenever I had to crash because I raged too hard, or wanted to hang out with my friends away from my mom’s house, or just wanted to eat tacos and listen to records, Sara was my guardian angel. Well, now I’m super excited because she just moved to the Bay Area for a job, and we are going to move in together!
This is totally my dream situation—what could be more fun than living with one of your favorite people in the world? She’s super laid back, and our house is going to be adorable, and we’ll get to live close to campus for me and close to public transportation and bakeries and coffee shops and places for hangover brunch. Our third roommate—Sara’s best friend from college—is a fun girl, too, and we’re thinking about getting a dog. So everything’s swell.
But sometimes I get really bummed out about leaving Starline, you know? I mean seriously, how could I not be?
Starline is the music/performing arts/dinner party/magic venue that I’ve been living in for the past month. I sort of had to audition to even be chosen to live here—they interviewed me twice and finally selected me because of my infectious, youthful enthusiasm and sparkling personality, obviously. But the person whose room I’ve been subletting is coming back in December, and I have to move. I’ve loved living at Starline and have been having some wonderful times here. Even just simple everyday moments feel special. Like right now, I’m sipping iced tea in our sunny ballroom while my roommates mill about getting ready for the show here tonight, an album release party for the lady that teaches yoga here on Monday nights. The creative, productive energy of this place is infectious, and I want to be a part of it, forever. Forever!!!!!
However! Taking 15 credits at school and having one part-time job (at a pet-sitting company) as well as a handful of freelance jobs for creative work…and like, doing laundry and bathing…that’s a lot for a certain 19-year-old individual who enjoys at least a moment or two of chill time during her week. It’s a lot for someone who has high expectations of herself and whose main emotional struggle in life has always been a feeling of missing opportunities. It’s just a lot for someone with very little time (FYI, this person is me, you guys). I see my Starline roommates meeting with people who want to do art shows here, and I want to be a part of that conversation so bad, but I don’t have enough of myself to devote to everything I want to do. There is definitely such thing as too much of a good thing.
Anyway, if someone had told me senior year that I would be living in the East Bay with one of my best friends, I would pull out my best dramatic chipmunk impression, because that’s just too unbelievable. But it’s happening, and it’s going to be so fun, and I’m going to be so happy. Right?!?
I have a problem with trying to find the perfect anything in life. The perfect major, the perfect city, the perfect classes, the perfect cupcake flavor to give to someone I’m sucking up to (IMPORTANT). I just have this idea that there is always ONE right answer to any life question. I’m learning that it’s not true in, well, ever. Starline isn’t perfect, and living with Sara won’t be perfect, either. Obviously there are a lot of shit decisions to make in life, and sometimes you have to choose between two piles of turds, basically. Not fun. I know I’m lucky to be going from one great situation to another, and that whatever regrets I have, I’ll be having them from the kind of place I used to only dream about. ♦