Moving

Throughout my twenties, I moved a lot. I liked it. The excitement of a new city, of discovering new things, of new possibilities. I think in many ways I was trying to find me, find who I am and where I fit, and I wanted to see if I would fit in any of those new cities. It was an adventure. It was fun. 

In the end, though, I never really fit. None of the cities I tried, as much as I liked them for their own reasons, was my city. 

I'm not sure Vancouver is my city, either. I really do like the city in many ways -- I like the weather, I like the atmosphere, I like the availability of organic food and yoga, I like the liberal-ness, I like the beaches, I like the restaurants, I like the shopping ... I don't like the people, who are pretty unfriendly, and I hate the cost.

The cost sucks.

I don't know why I'm thinking of this right now, but I'm bored at work and I'm looking at a bunch of plans for our future, and realizing that living somewhere else in this country would afford us a bigger place and less financial stress, and the possibility of a larger family and working fewer hours. I could quite possibly do work I want to do -- look at writing things I want to write more than things that need writing -- even though it would mean less money. There are so many advantages in living in another place, and most other places have good restaurants and yoga and organic food, and liberal folks and a nice arts scene.

No place has the sea, though. At least, no place we're considering. And I do like the sea. 

The fact is that I would never leave this city if it were cheaper. I like so much about it. And the cost seems like such a small thing, but the cost of living impacts pretty much everything about your life. What you can do, what vacations you can take, what jobs you can take, where you live, where your kids go to school, what kinds of opportunities your kids can have ... so much. And I don't know if I'm willing to sacrifice all those things for the four times a year I go to the ocean. Is it worth it? I don't know. 

And then on the other hand, as I yearn for a life that has less stress .... living in a place you don't like won't be less stressful. And there are always new stresses. So ... maybe better the devil you know. 

I just wish that we had another bedroom. That's all. Is that so wrong??