Change Can Be Good

It finally happened.

I got off my ass, got a (sort of) real job and moved to another city.

It all happened real quick, and I'm still not really comfortable with it. I was just getting settled. I moved from Denton back home to Richardson, got all set up to spend a summer with the parents, paying off debts, preparing to get my life in order. I looked forward to teaching myself some discipline within the safe confines of my old bedroom of fourteen years, and re-establishing myself in the world. But I guess someone had different plans.

I'm on vacation, Port O'Connor Texas, going saltwater bay fishing with some good friends. I have my phone turned off to avoid running the battery, not to mention the silence is relaxing. I wasn't worrying about anyone back home, my only concern was watching out for jellyfish, and trying to find a bite on my line. Friends, girls, family, all quiet, save for the sound of a few swearing while casting line in to the salty water. It was fun, I caught a couple trout. Sunburned, exhausted, and ready for a mid-afternoon nap I check my voicemail expecting the usual cavalcade of collectors and nonsense, but instead I hear someone pleading for me to call them regarding employment. I thought I didn't get this job, they were all filled. I had taken solace in the disappointment and prepared to work towards the future; but it was Saturday, and I could not make this call until Tuesday at best.

While I was exhausted from the road trips (little did I know it would be the least of it) I made the phone call on Tuesday. I had the job. I was going to be working on video games, and getting paid. They wanted me to start Wednesday, which was of course too little time, I would require at least 24 hours to move to a new city and start a new job, duh.

Well my plans were shot. There was an attractive girl in Denton I think had a thing for me, not to mention some lost contacts re-acquainted in Dallas. I was going to be able to save money while not paying rent and things would be good. What the hell was I going to do now? This job would pay less than my server job I was training for, how could I, two dimes away from bankruptcy, move to a new city and start a job?

Thanks to a friend I had a couch to sleep on. Sure it was uncomfortable, I was harassed by cats all night and the place had a stench like someone trying to emulate the african wild in their house, but I was working the next day, I had to be there. The workday felt, well, like a workday that didn't suck. Sure I worked ten hours my first day, but I was not exhausted the day after. I did not have the sense of dread about coming in the next day as I did with my office job. Even now, typing this at work off the clock (hooray for not having internet at the apartment for a week) I do not mind being here. I feel surrounded by peers, in an environment I'm comfortable with. Will this last? I don't know. Even my job by definition is temporary, but this is a simple bagatelle compared to the possibility of finding something I truly love to do.

I have an apartment, at least for two months. By the grace of the gods my friend was leaving town and looking to sublet his apartment the same week I was moving to Austin. It is slightly strange living there, as if I'm surrounded by the shadow of someone I've known so long. Every odd quirk about his apartment makes sense to me. Everything I see smells of him and his obsessiveness and secrecy, but it could be worse. Having to clean out and relocate the undergarments drawer of someone I don't know could be more disconcerting, but I hopefully won't ever know. It is home, however, if only for the time being. And from my parking space I can see the tower of the University of Texas at Austin.

So this blog is no longer a place for me to vent when depressed, or angry, or whatever the case can be. This blog is now a record of my Austin experiment, where I hope to achieve the goals I set out and succeed. Will I be able to live on a budget? Will I be able to show the discipline to not drink myself to oblivion daily? Can I stop smoking? Am I correct in thinking I'd love to travel and live in new places? Am I as liberal as I think, or is that just Dallas wearing on me? Well that one I sorted out. While I consider myself progressive and free-thinking, these people in Austin are radicals. It is just two sides of the same coin, but I think I like living with tails a little better than heads. Regardless, it is of little concern. Does my life begin here, or is this just another speed bump on the road of eventual failure? Am I at the wheel driving, or am I simply bitching at the wind while the car crashes?

So here it begins. My Great Austin Experiment.