Where art thou going, oh friends of mine

Posted November 18th, 2004 by Michelle

This is one of the few times these days that I take a break from my work life to blog. You can call a blog a diary, a narrative, anything you want, but a blog is merely a snapshot that covers the most compelling three or four minutes of that blogger’s day. And “compelling” clearly often applies only the blogger as opposed to the reader.

I am having a tremendous few days at work, filled with hope and good work and long, fruitful hours. My new office has a lovely view of treetops towering above my second-floor window. The closest tree is slowly turning, and is right now dominated by my mom’s favorite yellow. Three grand evergreens, twice as tall as my building, are perfectly framed in the window from where I sit and write. There is a little traffic noise, but just enough to remind me that the world is whirling by as I sit and write about the arts.

But I don’t know how long I can last here. It’s been the topic of debate with my friends and colleagues of late: how can we bear to continue to live in this valley when there is no reason for thirtysomethings to be here. There is no physical structure dedicated to us, no coffee shop with comfy sofas and modest prices and a high-speed internet connection. There is no dark wine bar where we might sip Cabernet and meet one another. There is no arts center where we might buy paints or see a show. The only thing to “do” here is go out to very expensive dinners, or have a very expensive glass of wine at the bar of a very expensive restaurant, or go see a movie in a terrible theatre with all of the drug-dealing, bored teenagers in downtown Napa. (Lord, I think it’s bad for us thirtysomethings, I can only imagine how dreadful it is for high schoolers.)

San Francisco is over an hour away, and I have to say, it utterly pales in comparison to New York. I love my little cottage, but I long to live within walking distance of a coffee shop, newsstand, thrift store, grocery. I long to see people my age. We take road trips to San Fran and we stare out the windows of the car at the young people as if the world outside is a zoo, filled with strange creatures who will never know us. I go back to New York and walk down the street and see so much possibility in the teeming hordes of my generation.

I love my job, I love my employer, I love my friends. But my friends are slowly leaving. I have only one left who still lives in the valley full-time, and he is thinking of moving across the country, or into the city…and there isn’t that much difference between the two, in my mind. The community we built so quickly is stretching, sprawling, and eventually I’m going to have to make some decisions about what is most important in my life.

But for now, I continue to work hard, and continue to try to deepen my connection to this community. I’m running off right now to meet with the local Red Cross chapter to see if there is any good work to be done. But unless a couple thousand forward-thinking young ones decide to move to this valley, I’m ultimately going to have to look elsewhere to create the life I want.