I have a lot to say about how much I want different.

When I was hired to my first teaching job, which I waited two years to get, I had to make a decision.  This was two months ago.  Do something I "wanted" to do, and make a wage that would allow me to pay off my student loans, have insurance, afford the things we tend to value, like a place to live, maybe a car.  But I was implicitly asked to do something else.  I had to move away from my friends.  People whom I've grown to love in my time in Oregon.  I'm not from here.  These are people I've met, in a city I valued.  A place I chose to live, explicitly.

Not a lot of people know this, but I moved to Oregon, not just because this place is beautiful, but because I wanted to ride bikes.  That was a major factor.  Eugene was great for a time, but after 5 years, I was ready for a change.  For a bigger town.  Portland was everything I wanted.  My fears of big cities were put aside after a year and a half, I felt like I could meet people, grow as a person, and have knowledge of a place.  I felt like, if I wanted, I could live in a bigger city.  I'm just a country boy, really after all, and these are big things for me.

When I was offered a job, it was a shock.  After years of rejection.  Of blatant unprofessionalism.  Of abuse by Education, a place where we should be nurturing the growth of not just our students, but our peers, and community.  As if that community has no meta-cognition about it's own actions, I was offered a job.  Asked within a week of application to interview, and to accept.  Laughed at when I asked to take a day to make a decision, and pressured to snatch that job up before it was taken away.  I agree, it was the smart move to accept this position.  I'm greatful for it.

But, I can feel two ways about it, at least.  I hate it here.  It feels like taking a step backwards.  It feels like putting me at my most vulnerable, and providing no support.  Having no friends.  Having no family.  Being a first year teacher.  This is something we don't talk about:  What if I don't want to do this?  I'm not even allowed to think that.  Why?  Because what else is there?  What if I'm still here in a year.

Now I'm told that it'll be ok.  That I'll make friends here.  I don't want to make friends here.  It's like when someone used to give me a hard time when I was working the door, and that little demon voice in my head would want to lean over and whisper in their ear, "I don't even want to be here."  But I didn't.  I'm a nice guy.  I put my head down, and do the best job I can do.  But I don't want to be here.  I don't see anyone around me here acknowledging what it must feel like to tear yourself away from everything you value.  They have families, and partners, and children, and big fucking trucks.  I'll tel you something, a cat is not enough.  A cat in not a partner in crime.

I do not want to live in Coos Bay, Oregon and it's not Coos Bay's fault.  It's my fault.  I'm 26 years old.  My biggest fear is that I'll be 31 and in Coos Bay, Oregon.  And I'll be a different person.  I don't want to be a different person.  This is me being an impetuous youth, does that make my feelings any less valid?  I'm aware that this is the time in my life when stuff is hard.  It doesn't make it easier to hear that.  What I want to hear is, "I'm sorry, that sucks."  Don't tell me it will get better.  I was told I'd get a teaching job right away.  It echoes of that.

A student asked me the other day why I became a teacher.  I struggled for an answer.  Because I'm good at it I guess.  There was a time when I thought I liked reading.  I don't really anymore.  When have books made me happy?  What have they done for me that I like.  If I could reevaluate my life, make different choices, I'd think about this quote, which I bring up sometimes.  "So you're a writer, what excuse have you got for not being ashamed of yourself."  John Dos Passos.  I always say that it was structured within an essay about the deep importance of writing.  I don't actually agree with that, I just say it so I can have things two ways:  I can express my disillusionment with my craft, and not.

What it comes down to for me, is that in Portland I had a place where I could be with friends, and meet people and do the things I like, and here I have a job and a cat.  To me, it doesn't matter if you live in a beautiful place if you have no one to share it with.  I don't want to be cheered up.  I don't want your sympathy.  I just don't want to live here anymore.  I miss my friends.  Sunday.