Yet here I was, hopping in a cab because my ride couldn’t outwait an overly inquisitive border patrol, skimming through a city I knew almost nothing about aside from the facts purged from a visitor’s guide I’d received from my adorable mother when plans began to formalize around my move.
Whenever I sit and contemplate what it means to relocate I keep coming back to the idea that it’s impossible to know what it’s like until you do it. Relocating your life is going to be a very different experience depending on the point in your life in which you do it. Sure, if you moved last year and you’re moving again this year, there may be some continuity between the experiences.
I’m a kid that was born in a non-remarkable suburb that way back when I was growing up formed a line between the Chicagoland area and the rolling gold corn fields that didn’t end until Iowa started. I didn’t know Chicago in those days. I knew New York better than I knew Chicago, actually…every year I spent some time in the Big Apple…I barely remember any real time in downtown Chicago until after I went away to college.
Hi! My name is Alana and I write over at The Good Girl Gone Blog. I’m so excited to be over here at Derek’s blog today! To be quite honest, I don’t actually read any boy-blogger blogs, so I was a little nervous when I received Derek as my 20SB swap partner. Fortunately, he’s a sweetheart, and I’m now feeling confident about guest posting on a non-pink blog.
Kickball is such a frustrating game for a soccer player.
And no, I’m not really a soccer player anymore, but my body will always be athletically soccer. I won’t wake up one day and have better hand/eye coordination than I do foot/eye coordination.
You want me to put a ball somewhere specific, let me kick it.
A soccer ball’s made for response and control. A kickball is made for the exact opposite purpose…it’s the great equalizer. A completely non-responsive ball that makes adults feel like children and children feel like professional athletes.