Yes, Angela and I are indeed moving to Tacoma, Washington! Or actually to a nearby burg klept Federal Way, which was ingeniously named because a highway goes through it. I guess in the 20s a highway was a really big deal, worth naming a town after. We have an apartment already lined up and waiting for us, a two-story, two-bedroom townhouse with a fireplace and a washer and dryer for $500 less a month in rent than what we're paying here. Right now our plan is to leave San Diego on February 3rd and arrive at our new home on the 6th.
But why, you ask? Why would I leave a steady job with great benefits in a warm and breezy clime to venture into the Unknown and Uncertain? An excellent question, one with many answers. One reason is that we'd like to own a house someday, and housing prices just in our little middle-class neighborhood recently hit the half-million mark. Another is that we'd like to adopt a child, but the cost of living here hampers our ability to reduce our debt and therefore we can't do much more financially than keep ourselves and our cats fed. Also--and this came as a surprise to us, but other local artists have confirmed this--San Diego is one shitty place to try and make it as an artist. Culturally, it's a cow town. People do not buy art. There's only one art store here. San Diego is not about culture, it's about jet skis. So if Angela wants to make it as an artist, and she does, desperately, we have to go to a more art-friendly environment.
Of course, we could continue to try and make a go of it here. Some folks have suggested it, but that begs the question: why? Why should we struggle to sort out our finances and pony up a half a mil for a house and all the rest of it here? I meself can think of only two answers: the weather's nice, and we are already here so we might as well stay.
Dude. I've finally had enough of paying $1200 a month for a two-bedrooom apartment just because our apartment complex gets a breeze. It's a nice place, but not THAT nice.
And as I descend (ascend?) into middle age, I'm increasingly angry at myself for the way I've tended to just stay where I am because I'm there. There has to be a better way to live than that and it turns out that in this world at least, I don't have an unlimited number of years in which to do it. Who knew? Not me in my twenties, that's for damn sure.
Of course this will mean moving far away from Vegas, which means a vast(er) distance between our homes. That's a drag. I hope we can see you and your bride once in a while; we'll certainly make the effort when we visit, and maybe you can come see us sometime.