When I was a child my family moved around a lot. My father was a helicopter pilot in the air force and whenever he was re-stationed, so were we. As a result, by the time I reached this prairie town at the age of seven, I had already called Ottawa, Los Angeles and Toronto my home(s).
From what I recall during my years as a wee little fox, I never minded moving. The prospect of packing up all my belongings, traveling to a mysterious city and meeting all kinds of new people excited me to no end. However I must admit that nowadays, the idea of relocating doesn’t so much enthrall me anymore, as it does terrify me.
This month marks the third consecutive spring in a row that I have changed my mailing address. Equipped only with tape gun and extra-strength hand lotion, I have spent the last three days in a dry skin battle with cardboard boxes and packing paper.
In two days the moving truck will come.
In eleven days I will be unemployed.
And in thirteen days, I will be leaving on a jet plane.
The entire situation has me (as well as everyone else in my life) asking a similar question: why? The truth of the matter is that, as of this moment, I am not sure what the answer is. But that said - I can still come up some reasons as to why I am pulling up the carpet out from underneath myself.
ONE: Tabula Rasa
I am desperately in need of a blank slate. My hard drive is cluttered, and every piece of my life needs to be de-fragmented and then reset. I am looking for a fresh start and I believe I can find that on the West Coast. I don’t know very many people in Vancouver, and I am happy about that fact. It will give me a chance to create a new life for myself, and shed some of the old skin that I cannot seem to shake off here.
My greatest goal in life is to write. The greatest obstacles standing in the way of that goal is good conversation, delicious red wine and premium gin. As I confided to the cute bartender at Billabong the other night over my fifth gin nightcap, so long as I stay in this city, I will not be able to tie down any words on the page. Although I know my expensive vices will follow me wherever I go, my hope is that by doubling my rent, I will be too broke to afford them.
Sometimes a girl just needs one. I would be telling a lie if I didn’t admit that part of the reason I am going has to do with the male species. But let me get one thing gay here before I carry on: I have no intentions of pulling some Sex and the City-Jennifer Hudson- “I came to the big city to find love” type of deal. As far as I am concerned, I am on hiatus from searching for love – if love desires, love can find me, but until such a time, I have more pressing matters at hand. THAT SAID, a boy has needs, and the fact is, the only thing drier than the air in this province is my set of bed sheets. And due to the fact that I got checked out more times in Vancouver in five days than in the last five years living here – I am optimistic that the Rugged Fox forecast, will call for more precipitation than I can handle.
In conclusion, I love Winnipeg and will be very sad to leave her. Within her lie my family, my people, my past and who knows, maybe even my future. Trust me, if I am sure of anything, it is that I am not looking forward to the next year of my life listening to poorly written Canuck jokes about how I managed to get out life in the igloo.