That Bar in Park Slope...

In the fall of 2008 I visited NY for the third time. I was hanging out in a bar in Park Slope, Brooklyn, with ex-Mr and four friends that had transplanted (one pair for a temporary stint and the other made a permanent move).

While drinking a rum & diet coke (yeah, I didn't know how to consume liquor properly yet, and this was my default) a song came on and I "Shazzamed" it. It was Empire of the Sun's "Walking on a Dream." At that exact moment, with that slight buzz and particular song playing an imaginary soundtrack—I knew: "I want to live here."

We seriously toyed with the idea for a minute. An apartment was opening up in my cousin's building and it was about the same rent that we were paying in SF. We could do it. Sure, we didn't have secure jobs yet, but we could do it. I told ex-Mr, "if we're going to do this, lets go NOW."

Obviously we never did.

Which is cool, our careers were stable in the Bay, eventually we moved to a dope apartment in a neighborhood across Golden Gate Park. It was a comfortable life. We had our shit figured out. I accepted the fact that we would probably never live anywhere except NorCal. I still fantasized about the idea from time to time though, and I admired the hell out of anyone who picked themselves up to live in a brand new city / state / country.

I guess the feeling never left me, because this past September, when I couldn't take what was going on with my marriage anymore I booked a one-way ticket. "FUCK. THIS. SHIT. I'm leaving."

So while many folks saw this as me "running away" (ok, yeah, it looks that way), I saw this point in my life as an opportunity to do what I wanted years ago. Live somewhere else while I'm young, cause when the hell would I ever be able to do this?

Now every time I hear "Walking on a Dream" I am reminded of that bar in Park Slope and my initial desire to make the huge move, and I pat myself on the back, cause I fucking did it.