For the last 10 years Los Angeles has been home to me, well, never quite a home, more a city of residence. And that emotional disconnect explains the ultimate necessity of the move. I moved here twice, following promising job opportunities both times, living in this terraformed desert land, this city of perpetual summer, this city tinged with smiley superficiality. It has much to recommend it, don't get me wrong, but most of what it offers is utterly lost on me. The omnipresent sun and the lack of treed canopy here in Los Angeles keeps me a prisoner indoors. The city scenes and social venues in abundance here beckon me not. I crave a simpler, quieter existence. I crave a Fall of crisp mornings and the smell of decaying leaves, I crave a Spring in which the landscape seems truly reborn, I crave weather as unpredictable as life itself.
I will miss many people in Los Angeles, but few things. If you are one of those people, thank you for having made this place beautiful in so many moments.
Where exactly I am going, and what exactly I am doing remains to be seen. I am at present embarking on a journey with an origin but no specific destination. I expect I might ultimately nestle in the lakes region of New Hampshire, perhaps one day opening up or taking over a very modest bed and breakfast; having that be an avocation rather than a career, continuing with software development/consulting as my day job. But there is quite a bit of modest trial and error required to settle on a region then settle on a specific piece of property. I expect to travel quite a bit over the next few months, sampling New England.