the future

the woman cutting my hair today told me that she thought people in Boston were really unfriendly. she was from Durham, North Carolina. i asked her what brought her here and she said, “well you know, people relocate either for love or for money. and for me, it wasn’t money.” Which should have been a clear answer, except that i wondered how she might explain people like me. people who came here neither for love or money, but for no real reason at all. or people who came here for all of the wrong reasons. or people who came here because they could not think of anywhere else to go.

“what about people like us?” I asked her.

She told me that it took her at least 3 years to like it here and now she is really happy, although she still does not think people are very friendly. I mentioned that I had been here for 3 months. And she said, “3 months is nothing.” Which on the surface was very encouraging. Here I am on the eve of my 3 month anniversary, impatient with myself for not acclimating very well. as well as I imagine others might acclimate.

“You’ve got to give it at least 2 years,” she said.

At my job, they have asked me to complete a 3-month new hire self-evaluation form, with questions to answer about what I’ve accomplished, what I see standing  in the way from accomplishing more, and the inevitable question:

“Where do you see yourself in 3-5 years? In 10-15 years?”

Which made me wonder if perhaps the real reason I relocated to Boston was to find a way to live more fully not in the present–because in the present you will only find disappointment that things are not as good as they will be in the future. That I will not be as good as I will be in the future. In the present, I will only find yearning for that  promise of a better life, better people, a better workplace, better everything.

3 months is nothing. I have been living in nothing for 3 months.


About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
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