I abandoned the plan. Now I'm here.
I had this plan after grad school where I'd buy a house in Revere or East Boston. I'd rent rooms out to friends. I'd take the blue line into the city to work. The summers I'd spend hitting the beach after work. Lazy weekend parties with booze and bocce and a crazed dog chasing the balls around.
People were like Matt you're crazed you don't want to live in fucking Revere.
Well I did, because that's what people said 30 years ago when people moved to Somerville or Cambridge. Ten years before that, the best thing people could think of doing with metro Boston was carving it up with highways. It was gritty and cheap. Revere and East Boston were as close to that as you'd get that right now. I was going to get ahead of the trend, buy a cheap old colonial on a hill in an only-ok, working class neighborhood and have the fucking time of my life.
When everyone else wanted in later on, I'd already be there. But I never felt totally cool about the plan. I felt too young for plans like these.
Then there was this one week last October.
I was interviewing for a company sort of on a lark. They weren't anywhere near Boston. This was as close to a hard and fast requirement for a company that I had. I was honestly willing and ready to do any sort of software development. No preference. But I wanted it to be in Boston.
I thought I bombed the interviews, but no big deal. I now work for this company. In Seattle.
How did this happen? I guess I figured I'd make sure I wouldn't be happier someplace else maybe.
When people ask me why I moved to Seattle, I say something like that, with much false confidence. Like it was the plan all along. Nah, it was the repudiation of the plan.
If I were to walk north to the end of my street now, I'd hit East Boston Street. And that's as close to Revere as I'll get.
But maybe that's a good thing. I'm still feeling out an entirely new place and I can't plan and maybe I shouldn't.
I'm just here and I'll figure it out as I go along.
(But I'd still like the crazed dog.)