Mapmaker, mapmaker, make me a map ...

It's completely my fault. If I had logged in to this space before now, I would have caught this blog's third birthday in January. It serves me right. I used to blame Daniel and, by extension, the relationship, for my lack of time to write. But, for about two months, Daniel was doing research in Arizona, not around to distract. In the time he was gone, the holiday season, I partied hard and accomplished very little. So, for the first time this year, I'm back with much to say and little discipline with which to extract it.

The word of the season is "geography;" coincidently this was Daniel's bar mitzvah theme and one of our favorite subjects. Between the two of us, Dan and I flew a total of 14 times in the two months that he was away, none of those trips being any closer to the NYC than the great state of Texas. Among these trips were my first two visits to California, a place that I found utterly enchanting. But, it's like they always say, "The grass is always greener ..." Oh, it may be so true. As you can probably infer, I still feel the same way about the Nu York, ready to make the split. This time, however, it may actually happen.

I imagine myself as the boy who cried, "Relocation!" I feel that I've threatened to leave the City any day that the temperature rises above 50 degrees. In the face of long commute times and armed itinerant citizens, I have made a life with amazing friends in the Nu York. But, if you asked me to add to the list of amazing things I've done here, I wouldn't be able to speak highly about the educational or professional strides I've made; they've been negligible. Financially, I'm no better off. Personally, I've built up a relationship with Daniel while my family in Texas has been radically refigured.

[Enter seductive circumstance.] This summer, Daniel's work at Columbia will take him to the end of the Metro North train line, right into New Haven, Connecticut, to continue his research with his colleagues who are moving to Yale University. While the length of the move is unequivocally indefinite, we have remained largely undefined. We've been together for over two years, and we still live in two separate Nu York City apartments. His future and his investment in all of this is clear; mine are not.

Naturally, Daniel wishes that I could go with him. And, who can blame him? In addition to being quite the catch, why wouldn't he want to continue the relationship that has sustained the two of us, that has changed us? My moving, however, would require finding a new job and a new social group. In some senses, I'd be even farther from my family, with few flights heading directly to Texas from New Haven. Each time I'd fly home, I'd have to come back to the City just to get there. And, if I were moving anywhere at this point in life, why wouldn't it be back to Austin?

At the end of the day, this all boils down to geography, or the lack thereof. If the life we lived as decision-making adults came with maps, we'd all be better off. The rugged terrain of adulthood is no match for someone prepared for life's surprises, right?!? Without a clue about where North is, without a map or a manual, we're all just bumping around hoping that the next steps we take are the right ones for us. We grow up for twenty-something years with life's biggest decisions made for us. Then, we leave school, and I'm wondering how the hell we're supposed to be ready to make those decisions ourselves without living in constant fear and doubt that we're on the wrong path?!?

I've always had a great sense of direction, and even when I was lost, I had no problems asking for directions. But, now, it seems that asking my peers about direction is tantamount to the blind leading the blind. My elders know better than to give directions. Maybe the answer lies in evolution. Like early human beings, maybe I'll make my way to where the grass is greener, to where I'm hunting and gathering less. And, if I'm lucky, maybe I'll happen upon a ranger. Isn't it their job to scout out the wilderness? Plus, park rangers are usually really cute.