I’m reading Under the Tuscan Sun for book club this week, and I’ll be honest with you, it’s not the easiest book to get through. There are parts that just drag me through. I think it’s due to the lack of dialogue..and the fact that while you see the world from the author’s eyes, you don’t really get a great sense for who she really is. It’s hard to relate to her.
In the course of reading this book, though, I’ve picked out a few morsels that were worth underlining and page-marking. The one I found last night is this:
“Where you are is who you are. The further inside you the place moves, the more your identity is intertwined with it. Never casual, the choice of place is the choice of something you crave.”
This caption spoke to me. I’ve always felt like I was in the wrong place, like my life was supposed to exist in another location. I always chalked it up to dissatisfaction with my life, discontentment with myself that would transfer to another physical location with me. “Wherever you go, there you’ll be,” right?
But then I read this section of Under the Tuscan Sun last night, and it made me wonder whether I’ve been shutting up valid voices. What if I really should be considering the possibility that my life would be better, I would feel more like me if I lived in a location that I felt something for. Because let’s face it. Roseville is nothing to me. It is simply a location that’s far enough away from where I grew up to be tolerable and close enough to “stuff” (ie grocery stores, a mall, etc) that I feel a sense of convenience (even if not when it comes to feeding my face). It’s also within driving distance of work (back up there where I grew up) and close to family. Those are about the only good things about it.
Ever since I was a kid, I’ve felt like I belonged somewhere else. The East Coast, specifically. Even before I’d been there, I had this sense that that was where I belonged. I’m not sure where I got it from. Maybe I watched too much television…more likely I read too many books. We didn’t have power where I spent the majority of my childhood, so I was either reading books or climbing trees…or reading books up a tree. We would watch a couple of shows in the evening, as a family, using the generator that powered our necessary electronics. So it was probably more likely I got the idea from a book than from television.
But I digress. The point is, somewhere along the line I drew up this fantasy of “living on the East Coast.” And you know what? Being over there makes me immensely happy. I won’t lie. My dream come true is to have all of my family and friends and Jim’s family move to Connecticut. Although I’d take North Carolina too…or Rhode Island. I adore Newport! Or the Boston area. I LOOOOOVE Boston. I’ve spent so much time trying to learn to love myself so that I can be happy wherever I am. But is that really the answer? Would I really be just as dissatisfied if I lived somewhere I loved instead of somewhere I nothing?
Roseville is full of chain stores, chain restaurants, cookie cutter houses. It’s a total suburb. It bores me. I long for a quaint downtown with little cafes and cute shops. Roseville has a downtown, but it’s sorely lacking in the cafes and shops. I long for streets lined with trees that change from green to vibrant yellow, orange and then red as the year progresses toward its end. I want to feel the pride of a place, the history, the culture, the little quirks that make it unique.
There isn’t a single unique thing about Roseville. If you closed your eyes, someone could pluck you out of any spot in Roseville and plunk you down in any spot in any other suburb, and you’d barely know you’d moved. I feel miserable when I think of living in Roseville for the rest of my life. But I feel trapped, some of which is my own doing. I can’t help that I would miss my family, Jim’s family, our friends, if we were to move across the country. And even though he says he would consider it, I think Jim really wants to stay here. And why wouldn’t he? He grew up in San Jose. Roseville is probably paradise in comparison.
But there’s another element to my hatred of Roseville, too. It’s still far too close to where I grew up. I feel like I haven’t branched out, started my own life yet. I don’t want to live a reasonable distance from where I grew up. I want new experiences. I want to feel like my life is of my choosing, not someone else’s. And who knows? Maybe I would choose blasé old Roseville. But how will I know that unless I try something else first?
My question to you is this: do you love where you live? And if so, do you think it has anything to do with your sense of self? If you don’t, do you feel like a relocation would change that?