as told to (your name here)

Fixing A Hole

[Disclaimer: This is so much longer than I had originally intended that my feelings won't be hurt if you skip it entirely. Unfortunately, I felt like I had to dump a lot of this stuff out so that I can move beyond it. In fact, you may as well skip it, since it's not all that good anyway.]

I'm seriously thinking, yet again, of leaving Houston.
There are several reasons, chief among them are job and happiness, two subjects many people lump together as one and the same. While I don't entirely subscribe to that point of view, I do recognize that one has a lot to do with the other. In any case, I have come to the conclusion that the work I really want to do just isn't done here in Houston. There is one really big company here, very near to where I live, but they're so big that they don't hire nobodys like me. They don't have to, and I don't hold that against them. Of the name-brand, international firms that do what I love, only the retail-end of their businesses have any presence here, and I've known for a long time that although I have the capability, I don't have the desire to sell for a living. So a change of scenery is probably in order. My first stop is New York City, financial capital of the world. I've never been to NYC and about all I know of the town is what I've seen and read, secondhand reports from other peoples' perspective. I intend to make a trip up there soon, to check it out and do some of the touristy things. If I like it, and get the feeling that I could conceivably live there, I'll try to get into the spring rotation of interviews and go back. If I don't like NYC, I'll plan a similar scouting trip to Chicago, the other major financial hub.

Another big reason for my desire to change location is that I just don't feel like I belong here anymore. I don't feel like I fit in among the people, and I just can't seem to find my herd. It may sound strange, moving to another city to find friends and lover(s), but I'm a big believer in going to where you need to be. It reminds me of a debate we had in a multinational organizations class I had a year or so ago. The professor asked us to read and comment on an article about US schools falling behind the rest of the world. Most of the class basically argued that the US had some sort of "right" to be dominant in all things, including education. My point however, specifically from the point of view of a multinational manager, was that I don't care from where someone comes. If I need the best person for the job, I don't want to limit myself to the best American for the job. Similarly, if the best schools and/or jobs for myself and my family are somewhere else, I'm going to go there. I'm sorry if that's not very patriotic. I do love this country and I can't imagine ever giving up my citizenship. If I ever do find myself living overseas, it'll be from the perspective of tough-love (towards my home country) as well as looking out for number 1.

But I've drifted off of my second point, my American right to the pursuit of happiness. One of my primary goals in life has been to find my soulmate, and I just don't think she's here. My experiences thus far have led me to believe that the women I'm currently surrounded by (figuratively) just aren't interested in a guy who cares. I'm not a beer-swilling, ball-scratching, road-raging...

[Note: I stopped here for a LONG time to think carefully. I thought it would be fun to list a hundred hyphenated descriptions of stereotypical guy things that don't describe me but, while I could probably go on and on (and on and on), my intent is not to insult anyone who lives here. Especially those guys that are getting some.]

...publicly-farting, loud mouth sports fan. Most days I find myself wanting to lead a quiet, simple existence. However, the next thing that comes to mind is living like a monk, deprived of riches (not just wealth) and alone, that which I dread the most. Someone recently told me how she couldn't imagine why women weren't throwing themselves at me. An exaggerated compliment, to be sure, but one not taken flippantly. And as nice as the intended sentiment, it hurts a bit to think that it might be true and what I might be missing. Then I wonder who's wrong: The one who knows me, or the ones who don't.

[Note 2: OK, I'm seriously fooked at this point, because I have no graceful dismount. No end to prattle and babble, jabber and chatter.]

So is all of this garbage the result of introspection on this September 11th, what would have been my seventh wedding anniversary? (A day of multiple disasters, to be sure.) Perhaps. My self-doubt about the women I've met and dated here could easily stem from the rejection of my wife leaving me. On the other hand, it could just be acknowledging what the universe has been trying to tell me all along: Keep moving, nothing to see here.

posted by tinyhands @ 11:59 PM