Disconnecting from a place.
October 17, 2024
Thoughts on the eve of moving across the country.
It was around half a pre roll sitting about 300 yards onto the beach in Santa Monica several years ago that I realized that I was existing in the wrong place. It's about 90 degrees, almost no humidity, sitting on my shoes without a care for anyone or anything. There's a wedding on the beach with anywhere from 20 to 100 guests, who cares. There's a competitive volleyball competition going on with about 20 or maybe 100 participants, who cares. There's a woman walking her dog in a bikini, the dog is peeing on the sand, who cares. Unfortunately at this exact moment in my life I am unaware of the disconnecting I am about to do to virtually every aspect of my life. Who cares. Half a year later I am pretending everything is normal at Christmas. Another half a year later I am transferring my business' domain name and instagram to a man from Colorado as four other men carry out a thousand pound machine from my rental studio space. Three more months and I will be packing my car in preparation to drive 3,000 miles to my new home 16.2 miles away from the very beach I had my worldly realization. Life comes at you fast, and when it's screaming at you from point blank range, it's best to listen. In the next few paragraphs I'm going to stream of consciousness ramble about what it means to disconnect from the only reality you've ever known; Pennsylvania.
My grandmother, Helen, was born in the same house she died in, 64 years old. My grandfather was born in New York City and moved to Pennsylvania when he was a child. My maternal grandparents were born in Bethlehem and Salisbury, my step grandfather was born in Allentown too, the same hospital I was born in. My mother, father, and sister were all also born in Allentown. My father still owns the home he was born in, the same one his mother was born in. Cousins, nephews, aunts, and uncles all in Pennsylvania. For some reason it took almost 100 years of family lineage before anyone started moving away. I've felt for a long time that the world has to be bigger, damn I say have more to offer than the muted green and brown wasteland that is this great state.