Buh Bye
I made a decision a few years ago. At that time I was burnt out on school, being a student, writing papers, being critiqued. I was ready for my life to begin. So I decided to move back to my hometown, where a decent paying job was waiting, where a girl lived, a girl I was falling for.
The decent paying job, turned into a better paying job as I moved from substitute to contracted teacher. The girl and I fell together. And my creative drive vanished.
The job was left behind in resignation papers. The girl, left behind in guilt and battered memories. Me, practically invisible in hers.
I sought the answer to what I was doing in my hometown. What was holding me there that was helping me grow into what I wanted to become? And there was nothing. In fact Long Beach has disgusted me.
Long Beach is in a large bubble. It's a large enough city to include a downtown, a marina, a nightlife, a ghetto, suburbs, beach front property, projects, etc. You can grow up in North Long Beach, go to school, then move across town as an adult, and you feel you have moved somewhere. But there you are, with a 908 at the beginning of your zip code. You can move into a nearby city, Lakewood, and there is a different vibe on your street, that includes trailers, Sea-Doos, and pickups.
In Long Beach, you can grow up next door to someone that attended the same high school. Then you and your neighbor go to separate colleges. You find a job, start a family, move into a nice suburban home. Three years later you run into your childhood friend, and find she lives on exactly the same street.
In Long Beach, numerous teachers come from Long Beach schools, and many from Long Beach State. They teach with people who were raised but five miles away. They meet, fall for each other, and coincidentally teach the same grade or the same subject. They get transferred so they are in the same school, neighbors, professionally, and roommates at home. They get to meet the same people together. Imagine the stories at the dinner table.
In Long Beach, when meeting someone you know, you find out you aren't that separated after all. For Long Beach is the city of three degrees of separation. Your coworker was your ex's friend in middle school and now date's your archnemesis from high school.
In Long Beach, it is not uncommon when meeting people to be asked: What school did you go to? If you answer with your university alma mater, they smile, roll their eyes back, and clarify, "Which high school?" As if there are only six high schools that exist in this country, as if where you went to high school, or what program you were in defines who you are, where you come from, or what you'll become.
I decided as I was getting grad school applications together, to go as far as possible if I were to get in, for I could not settle down and live the rest of my life only truly knowing two cities, Long Beach and Santa Cruz. NYU and Columbia disagreed with this plan, but USC and Los Angeles beckoned.
The decent paying job, turned into a better paying job as I moved from substitute to contracted teacher. The girl and I fell together. And my creative drive vanished.
The job was left behind in resignation papers. The girl, left behind in guilt and battered memories. Me, practically invisible in hers.
I sought the answer to what I was doing in my hometown. What was holding me there that was helping me grow into what I wanted to become? And there was nothing. In fact Long Beach has disgusted me.
Long Beach is in a large bubble. It's a large enough city to include a downtown, a marina, a nightlife, a ghetto, suburbs, beach front property, projects, etc. You can grow up in North Long Beach, go to school, then move across town as an adult, and you feel you have moved somewhere. But there you are, with a 908 at the beginning of your zip code. You can move into a nearby city, Lakewood, and there is a different vibe on your street, that includes trailers, Sea-Doos, and pickups.
In Long Beach, you can grow up next door to someone that attended the same high school. Then you and your neighbor go to separate colleges. You find a job, start a family, move into a nice suburban home. Three years later you run into your childhood friend, and find she lives on exactly the same street.
In Long Beach, numerous teachers come from Long Beach schools, and many from Long Beach State. They teach with people who were raised but five miles away. They meet, fall for each other, and coincidentally teach the same grade or the same subject. They get transferred so they are in the same school, neighbors, professionally, and roommates at home. They get to meet the same people together. Imagine the stories at the dinner table.
In Long Beach, when meeting someone you know, you find out you aren't that separated after all. For Long Beach is the city of three degrees of separation. Your coworker was your ex's friend in middle school and now date's your archnemesis from high school.
In Long Beach, it is not uncommon when meeting people to be asked: What school did you go to? If you answer with your university alma mater, they smile, roll their eyes back, and clarify, "Which high school?" As if there are only six high schools that exist in this country, as if where you went to high school, or what program you were in defines who you are, where you come from, or what you'll become.
I decided as I was getting grad school applications together, to go as far as possible if I were to get in, for I could not settle down and live the rest of my life only truly knowing two cities, Long Beach and Santa Cruz. NYU and Columbia disagreed with this plan, but USC and Los Angeles beckoned.
posted by matty at 9:39 PM
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