Movin' on up

I'm in need of some change. I need change like the entire Jersey Shore cast needs life coaches. I'm getting a strong case of the blahs and am starting to think a change of scenery would do me good. A new town, new home, new people, new places... Essentially I want to pack up all my measly belongings and move to a resort in some distant tropical locale.

Unfortunately, I have a lot of things on my plate right now and the likelihood of me being able to drop everything and start entirely new is equivalent to -99.9%. In other words: it’s not happening, partna. I have one more quarter left until I’m done with my BA degree- hallelujah!- and then next June I’ll start school again for my MA in teaching. All of the grad programs I’m looking at are local so I’m pretty much stuck within this area for the next year and a half or so. That’s not a bad thing though. I love Washington and the Pacific Northwest. In fact, I would love to stay within this region for the rest of my life.

With that said, I think I’m just sick of *exactly* where I live, which is downtown Tacoma. Don’t get me wrong, Tacoma in general is a great city and I especially love how they’ve revamped the entire downtown area. Our vintage apartment is extremely fun and unique as well, not to mention conveniently located near all of downtown’s lively places. Even with all that though, I’m still yearning to get the heck out of this place. I’m done with the bars, bums, and recently installed parking meters. Our apartment is so hard and cold with its sharp corners, towering ceilings, huge windows, and old wood floors. I want a home with a garage I can park my car in and a backyard my dog can roll around in. Oh, and a fireplace I can drink wine next to! Is that too much to ask?

I want to leave this place:

Cross the westbound side of this bridge:

And live here:

Yes, I want to move to Gig Harbor, an area that is polar opposite of downtown Tacoma. It’s slower, less built, and much more Martha Stewart. Sadly, even being an energetic woman in her early twenties, this is what I crave more than ever. I want to trade in my boisterous twenties in exchange for the life of a humdrum forty year old. It’s official: I’ve lost my youth. Next thing I know I’ll bring drinking Ensure, poppin’ prunes, and seeking a membership at the Elks Club.

You can go ahead and attempt to save me, but I think it’s too late. Instead please support me and promise not to defriend me for my whacky ways. I’m crossing my fingers that moving across the bridge will be the end of my aged ambitions. If it gets any worse, like me having Tupperware parties and planting petunias in the backyard, I give you permission to shoot me.

Not seriously but I do give you permission to grab me and shake me vigorously while screaming, “WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”


Deal?