One Year Ago

Screw this, I'm going for a walk.

After a week and a half of fruitless job searching from 2,100 miles away, I turn off the monitor of my hulking dinosaur computer (a high school graduation present), leaving behind 14 or so Craigslist job applications for everything from teacher to secretary to full-time Beverly Hills nanny. Instead of facing reality, I lace up my walking shoes. ipod in hand, I head out the patio door, ignoring the "take me with you" meows of my cats, and the "I'll rip you to shreds" barking of my neighbor's ankle-high dog. I turn on a song that's peaceful to me, and start to book it to the park.

The ipod is no help, and thoughts invade: how am I going to find a job in L.A. when I'm in Michigan? When am I going to actually do this? It's mid-July and I haven't even taken ANY steps toward moving. I mean, literally. Come on girl, what the hell? You haven't put anything in any boxes, you haven't created a timeline, you're sinfully unorganized, especially for you. What are you waiting for, the stars to line up perfectly? They won't, this is a messy process. Oh my god, I came out here to get away from this crap! Shut up!!!

My thoughts finally slip away for about 10 minutes, and then I come upon them: the Smith family. I have taught two of their sons, and before I can blink, the summer-crazed boys are upon me, shouting their hellos and running around each other, off the trail to inspect this berry or that leaf, and their parents simply smile, relaxed and amused by it all.

"Hey, we thought you were moving this summer!" the dad begins.

"I am," I reply.

"Well, when are you leaving?"

"Pretty soon, I just have to get a couple things in line."

"Like what?" His eyebrows start to raise, and this slowly continues throughout the whole conversation.

"Well mostly I'm trying to get a job nailed down, but it's tough from over here." I think I have started to blush and stammer. My grand plan is only supposed to look cracked and ridiculous from my side; the whole world isn't supposed to see how bad it is.

"Um, aren't you forgetting about an apartment?"

At this point, I have more faith in myself. Clearly, this man has no clue that in order to find an apartment in a big city, you have to BE in that big city. I obtained my small-town apartment, sight unseen, over the phone, because it was the only apartment available in all of Coldwater. No one in their right mind in Los Angeles would rent to someone they hadn't seen in person. No one.

I explain the apartment situation as delicately as I can, doing my best not to sound haughty or like a know-it-all. My god, this man just does not get it.

"Well," he continues. "You'd better get on it. I'd hate to see you still stuck here in August with no job anywhere."

Yes, you person who is starting to annoy. I have considered this.

"That won't happen," I continue. "I'm moving out there, job or not. If I end up doing something that isn't teaching for a year, so be it."

"Well," the dad says (I am beginning to hate that he starts all his sentences with this word, spoken in such a way as to imply that HE is trying to get ME to see the light, diplomatically but overbearingly). "Well, we'll see. Have a good one, Becky." And his family turns away and continues up the trail, leaving me annoyed beyond belief. We'll see? We'll SEE?? Oh, you suck. You hear that, obnoxiously nice father of nice and talented children? You SUCK!

Deciding that there is clearly no escape from the situation I have brewing, I give up and jog home. The cats meow their hellos. The computer hums to life again, and the rest of the evening is spent bouncing between the aforementioned job aps, various moving truck websites, and the Craigslist apartment finder.

I will stitch together a life.