I was in the koots recently. For those not in the know, this is short for the kootenays, a region of awesomeness in south eastern BC. Far removed from the lusiousness of the sea, but surrounded by big bear huggy mountains and calm. I’ve always been tempted by a desire to live there, because of the incredible joy I feel upon waking up there every day. I’ve consistently tempered that desire with the reality that there is more financial improvement to be had on the coast, more ocean-y goodness, a tie to great friends, my immediate blood family, an international airport, access to surf, not that I’ve ever really taken advantage of that geographical superness (I blame laziness, lack of finance and an irresistible yearning to not have to wear anything as form fitting as a wetsuit.). I knew at some point I would finally do it, up and move and while not sever all ties to the coast, certainly combine them into fewer, slightly stretchier ribbons of affection.. Ok, I have no idea where I was going with that exactly. But I’ve always held it like a carrot to tease myself with. ‘When you’ve traveled all the countries of the world, fallen in many canals, achieved nirvana 9 times in the same moment (which I did this summer at Shambhlahaha!) and cast off all other earthly desires, you may transport yourself and your wiggy tutu-ness to the koots to dwell in simplisitic yummy. Like it’s some kind of shangri-la that only the worthy are accepted into.
Puh. Shaw. I say.
At any rate, while I was there this last time, I started to think, jeez, I wish I already lived here, as I do every single time I am there. But, knowing myself to be incredibly talented when it comes to making impetuous decisions that don’t often turn out to be beneficial (unless the lesson is stop making impetuous decisions..which only applies if one actually pays attention to such things as lessons..) I took a deep mountainy fresh breath of air and said, no. I have set in motion certain events which should play out of their own accord. I will move to the koots in the spring, after the school thing I signed up for is finished, when I turn 35 in april. Happy Birthday to me!
Of course, just in case the universe approved of my potential impetuous decision, I did some homework into finding out if the course (Women inTrades discovery whatzit) I plan to take at BCIT is transferrable to Selkirk in Nelson. Selkirk did offer one, but it has been cancelled. Alright, so I can’t justify moving there before the spring at the earliest, because going back to school is an epic win for responsibility!!! (And since school worked soooo well for me in the past (some might recall my statement of dropping out in grade 10 being likely the only truly wise decision my 16 year old self made) I should really give it another shot??) SO hurrah, I will maintain until January, go to school, become super responsible and earn myself some kootenay! Then out of curiosity, I checked into the possibility that the class I’m expecting to get into in January will indeed have space for me in January.
No. It does not. Hmm. Suddenly the thought of staying in Vancouver this winter, having to find *gasp* gainful employment while I wait for a course that might not have space for me until *double gasp* next fall??!!?? and may turn out to be a frustrating endeavor as I’m already schooled in tradelike skills beyond what is even touched upon in a course to introduce tools to people who have little or no experience with them…isn’t so appealing. Aside from the dreamy friends I have here, not even a little bit.
Know this, dreamy coastal friends. I love you. I love to hang out with you, on the beaches, the bikepaths, the cafes, the nightclubs, the parks, the apartments, the beforeparties, the afterparties, the madness, the backyards, the delightful gigglefests and passenger seat rantings (” I cannot believe he said that!”). You are my family and always will be. And those times I find myself on the coast, I’m expecting to be able to surf your couches.
If I could wake up in Vancouver every morning with as much contentment in my heart as I do when I’m in the kootenays, I would make this my forever long time home. My blissful base of operations. My bounce back and fro of island and stream of urban conciousness. But it’s not home here. And until I find a place where I feel it even stronger than 8 hours east of here, home is where I’ll be.