There's No Place Like . . .?

I have recently discovered that location, location, location, may not necessarily play that big a role in a person's happiness. Maybe it's just the hard-wired capitalist in me (though believe me when I say I straddle the line between Capitalism and Socialism, well hover over it actually, more than anything else) but I beleive it's money that truly changes a half empty glass into a half full one.

If I'd had money there, I probably wouldn't have left. If I had money here, I'd probably feel like the move was justified. Money lets you live in nice places and see amazing things and do everything wonderful that you've been dreaming of doing for as long as you can remember. Without it, you're still the same hot, sweaty girl in the middle of the desert pining for the day that you will be surrounded by beauty and color and all those marvellous bits of life that you've missed out on.

And oh yeah, there's other stuff too, that you don't count on when you upheave your whole life and strike out for the unknown. Shit follows you.

I packed up everything that meant anything (6 boxes of books, 4 boxes of clothes, 2 boxes of kitchenware, 3 boxes of cds and dvds and 3 boxes of random miscellaneous crap)and ventured (narrowly survived a two day road trip with my brother at the wheel)across three states to get here, only to find that even though I made sure NOT to pack them (in fact I'm pretty sure I left them sitting beside the dumpster next to my computer desk), fear, anxiety and general self-loathing picked up my scent and followed me here. I think they may have actually been waiting here before I even arrived. I'm fairly certain I saw them hanging around the giant T-Rex at the Burger King in Palm Springs.

As it turns out, moving is just geography. It seems like a fresh start, but really it's just all the same ghosts haunting you and the same hurts still stinging, even if there is a brand new, lovely waterfont view to look upon and a cool breeze blowing.