So. . .I think for the most part I have been happily nested in the city of Boston, content only because I am comforted by the fact that I am far far away with a chance to renew the person I didn’t want to be in California. I am naturally a free-spirited person, naive and spontaneous to say the least, but somehow I have ended up exactly where I didn’t want to be. Insecure and alone.

I thought that by leaving California I would become a more stronger and more independent person. I thought I could find my passion, the ONE THING that’s going to keep me happy forever. I discovered that I am a person that needs to chill when it comes to having high hopes. Now, It’s hard to gauge whether Boston has helped me improve as a person or not–I don’t really have a metric system with which to measure this marginalized improvement. I guess I can only rely on my feelings–which is probably one of my most unreliable attributes. My feelings, those mushy things that plague the pits of my heart and stomach, are the most erratic, unpredictable, and dangerous entity that I’ve ever come to face. Do I feel any different being in Boston as opposed to California? Not really. The desire to be somewhere else still remains, no matter where I go.

And now that’s got me thinking about the idea of being content. I mentioned before that I was content with my nest in Boston. Quick segue, isn’t it funny that the word “contentious” has the exact opposite meaning of “content?” English is a funny language.  Anyway, being content is something I’ve always questioned. Why would you want to be content? Is it okay if you end up being a spud on a couch with the zero brain wavelengths floating around in your head? If you were just a perfectly dandy simpleton, is that really okay, because as long as you’re content, life is okay? I refuse to believe so.

I honestly believe that you must always feel something. If you’re not happy, then you’re either sad or in pain or something close to that nature. All I know is that I always feel a tug of mushy feelings and whether I like it or not, at least I know I’m alive and aware, and not a SPUD.

All of this has been sparked by the mere fact that life is telling me to get off my fat ass in Boston. I feel like I’ve been sleeping in a deep slumber, and am now being SHOVED off the bed. Good-bye Boston, HELLO California, Neutrogena, China, and the future.