Westward Bound

There's a lesson I learned a long time ago, and despite all the years that have gone by since then... the aphorism remains true.

Today, I move back to LA. It's been just shy of three years that I've called Chicago my home. But to be perfectly honest, it hasn't really felt like home in awhile. No place has. And even though I'm moving back to LA, the city of my birth, my youth, it still doesn't feel like I'm going home. It feels like I'm not going anywhere at all.

Anyway, yesterday, Jason and I were the only ones at the office because we're losers and don't care about NATO. Unfortunately, because we were the only ones there, there was no food.

Me: Can I eat this cookie?
(As I take a bite of the cookie, Jason rips it out of my hand and throws it across the room.)
Jason: No, Connie, Jesus... those cookies have been sitting there for weeks.
Me: I already ate a little.
Jason: You can't just eat things off the table.
Me: I'm starving. Let's go eat lunch.
Jason: I have a 12:30pm call you should join. Then we can eat.
Me: I'm going to die.

It was funny at the time, but the more I thought about it, it's kind of sad. I'm an adult in so many ways... and a child in so many others. And I guess I gave myself the next few months to stop being a child. To speak less, and think more. To painfully step back from what I've become accustomed to... which, I suppose, was my own choice anyway.

Because in the end, if life were easy, it wouldn't be worth it. But for whatever we don't like about our lives, who have we to blame but ourselves.