Twelve hours of sleep is a hell of a drug. I know there’s such a thing as sleeping too much; while the five hours a night I usually get isn’t enough, anything over nine hours puts me in the position of being awake but less than completely aware of my surroundings. I’ve been up for several hours now but I still want to go to bed, and a piece I was going to write this morning is definitely not getting started before
noon late afternoon the end of the day.
Sometime today, I have to start that piece, run on the treadmill, make a batch of marinara sauce, and get ready for a trivia night with Mike, Abbi, and some other nerds I know. Probably also do a load of laundry because I’m down to the socks that aren’t very warm and sometimes get bunched up inside my shoes. Until then, there’s an Intervention marathon on A&E and if anything makes me feel more productive, it’s a slurring, eye-rolling alcoholic that looks kind of like Captain Ron.
I may also do some thinking about Seattle, which I’ve been doing every day for the past month. Like I said yesterday, Graham and I have been kind of sort of seriously talking about maybe moving there, and while no decision has been made, it’s clear that we’re both interested but, at least for me, there are a few issues to consider. My main concerns are logistical. For instance, I can’t move without a job, and for an un-degreed person such as myself, getting one before I move will be challenging. Speaking of things that have to be done without actually being there, finding a place is another challenge. I also think about the pain in the ass stuff like packing, hiring movers, and driving across the country with 2 cats (both stress-shedding, one possibly stress-peeing) in the car, and about the more sentimental issues like giving up the best place and neighborhood I’ve ever had, as well as leaving my nephew, who is only five and seems to like Graham and I an awful lot for us to just leave him here.
What I’m not concerned about is the change. I find that I’m becoming less attached to St. Louis as I get older. Surely things like my crap ass job and the crap ass economy are factors, but overall, St. Louis seems more and more like a dying, tired, aggressive city full of dying, tired, aggressive people. Initially, one of these things is why I didn’t want to leave for some crazy goddamned reason. It once occurred to me that if I move to someplace where it isn’t necessary to be a dick all the time, I’ll lose the aggressiveness that I’ve developed by necessity of living in St. Louis. At first, this bothered me. Losing that edge, that ability to detach and deflect, that unwillingness to let someone else fuck up your day just because they think they can. And then I realized that this isn’t a quality that I should want to keep. I mean, I don’t want to turn meek and trusting of everyone because that’s just foolish, but why would I want to be an asshole to everyone I meet? Being a dick isn’t something that I or anyone else should strive for, and it’s become obvious to me that living here has made me think otherwise.
I’m not even close to making a decision. I remember all the headaches and heart attacks of moving, and I also live daily in a city that I don’t love in the way that I used to. I also know that there are plenty of factors out of my control, for instance, if I don’t get a job, I don’t go. I also also know that I’m a little too old to make a half-assed effort, because I don’t want to live my life coming back here to start over every few years.
Also the coffee there is better.