Operation: Into the West

The two former pizza places around the corner from my apartment have been closed for almost two years.

One is now a fancy Chinese restaurant, and the other is an empty shell with dusty, built-in booth seating. I’ve lived in the area long enough to remember a time when both would bustle all-day (even into the early mornings of my undergraduate days). In fact, both went through two renovations each in the seven years that we’ve been neighbors, and I remember each one.

Boston University students often talk about getting stuck in the “BUbble.” Most students lives on campus. There are more than enough dining halls, restaurants, and shopping/entertainment venues within a few hundred yards of any dorm. In other words, you never have to leave if you don’t want to.

The problem is that when your father attends a school (twice), and then you do the same… and then work there post-graduation… it goes from being a family alma mater to being a crutch. The BUbble has been a safe haven for seven years, and it’s scary to consider leaving that security for wild adventures.

But once you’ve decided to move, the next question is how far to move. Across the neighborhood? Across town? Maybe to a suburb for a different lifestyle? How about across a whole country? Madness!

Anyone who knows me—I’m so sorry for your loss—can attest that I hate change. It doesn’t excite me or thrill with the incessant hum of possibility. Some people love it; I don’t. I see only inconvenience… messing with what ain’t broke. Any break in my daily/monthly/annual routine must be forced. I don’t go quietly either.

Earlier this week, I accepted a job offer in Southern California and gave notice to my current gig at BU—my home for seven years. Including childhood, I have spent two-thirds of my life in Massachusetts. And now I follow generations of East Coasters to the West.


Why now? Well, this bourgeois designer is single, has no kids, doesn’t own a car, doesn’t own a house, isn’t in grad school—which is all very sad. That said, I realized that if I want to have a random, reckless adventure to break the rut of my increasingly predictable life, isn’t now the time to do it? You agree, right? I knew you would. We’re obviously off to a great start.

When I get there (sometime in mid-August), I’ll working as a web designer at Blizzard Entertainment. Who knows what that will bring, but you and my seven or eight other readers get to come along with me.

Check back for the hilarious tales of a grumpy, uptight New England-transplant, trying to make it work in sunny, perky Orange County, California. Also, there’ll be Instagram photos. Californians get all hot-and-bothered for selfies.