Coming back to my hometown always takes an adjustment. The city (does it really count as a city?) never seems to change — same streets, mostly the same businesses, mostly the same people– and yet it all feels different.
There’s now nothing to do.
I have no idea how I managed to stay entertained in high school.
Also, the house I grew up in has since been sold, so when I’m here I stay in a new place with different smells and sounds. I know it doesn’t seem like much, and I guess I’d have hoped that by the time I was getting ready to graduate I wouldn’t need that traditional “home” feeling anymore. But I still do. And it’s not there anymore. A bit sad, in a way.
But I’m not saying that I completely dislike the challenges of a new place. They can be fun. For example, as I’ve stated before, setting up a new kitchen is really a blast.
And I love organizing other people’s stuff. I get this strange satisfaction from looking at a mess and transforming it into a comfortable, livable space. Clutter stresses me out.
So, being the great guy that he is, my dad has pretty much given me free reign of setting up and organizing his apartment. Currently sitting on his kitchen counter is a running list of all the things he needs to get his bachelor pad in good shape for after I leave.
I think that if all my other career ideas don’t pan out, I’ll just become a professional organizer and have people hire me to organize their lives.
I’m reluctant to admit I can think of only a handful of careers that sound like more fun. Writing, producing, and wedding planning are some of them. I think I’m officially adding professional organizer to my list of potential life paths. The more the merrier, right?
Back on the topic of adjustments . . . The other thing about coming back to Billings is that people move or change, or both (which is good). Very few people have stayed the same, even if it sometimes feels like this town is in a constant state of stagnation.
So the list of people I make a point of seeing every break keeps getting smaller and smaller, until I’m at the point where I only see three or four people (though those three or four are very special to me). I spend the rest of my time at coffee shops, writing and thinking of home. Oklahoma is home. Temporarily, at least.
Then I’ll move and make a new home.
Sorry I keep talking about this. It’s been on my mind a lot lately. I’ve termed it “the plague of the petrified soon-to-be college graduate.” Catchy, right?
I’m looking into trademark options as we speak.