3. The Squirrels Ate my Sunflowers
Dearest readers,
If you’ve been following along up to this point, then you’ve heard about a college graduation, a move to a new city, the 6-month journey of the CPA, busy-season, and my brother’s engagement. 2018 has been quite the ride. With all that, I imagine you’re probably like that kid from The Incredibles, just waiting for something amazing to happen here. Well, I should probably start by tempering your expectations a bit.
This last month has been marked by routines. And as many of you other recent graduates know, routines aren't always glamorous. For example, I can finally drive most places within a 5-mile radius without desperately relying on Waze. The farmer’s market checkout man and I are on a first-name basis - shoutout to Andre. And most importantly, I’ve finally synced up Alexa to play "You Make My Dreams" and turn on my Christmas lights with my morning alarm. This was a bigger accomplishment than it might seem. Apart from routines, I want to talk about two big things in this post - the complex idea of “Home”, and the complex idea of “The Bay Area”.
I'm no stranger to the state of California. As I tell people, "I'm LA, born and raised”. That is, until they ask me if I actually grew up in Los Angeles, and then I have to clarify that I lived in a small town next to Pasadena, where the Rose Bowl is, and the only times I really went to LA were for Dodger Games and dim sum. At this point, they usually see me for the fraud that I am. Nonetheless, I feel like I’ve driven in enough standstill traffic and complained enough about ridiculous rent prices to still be considered a California native, despite my 4-year hiatus to the illustrious Midwest.
So if California is where I was raised, why do I always have such a hard time explaining where I’m from? It’s really not that complicated - I grew up in SoCal, but my family moved to St. Louis, and then I went to school in Northern Indiana, but ended up Silicon Valley after graduation. Plenty of people have more complex origin stories than me, yet I still have a hard time articulating which place is actually my home.
From Southern California, I got my love of sunshine, authentic Mexican food, and rooting for half of the professional sports teams out there. From St. Louis, I got my love of saucy barbeque, the color of trees in October, and saying “y’all” when the situation doesn’t call for it. From Notre Dame I got my love of intellectual conversations in dining halls, complaining about snow but loving how picturesque it makes everything, and finding my self-worth in the success of a football team. And now, I’m trying figure out how this new home in Santa Clara fits into my story.
One of the biggest growing pains since moving out here has been turning our townhouse into a “home”. Having lived in a house with 6 people and 3 dogs, followed by a dorm with 150 people and 1 dog, I’ve always believed “feeling at home” meant being surrounded by people. And also animals. Since graduating, I’ve had a really hard time replicating this same sense of community.
I no longer get to walk back into The Lounge after class to find Charlie doing one-armed push ups without his shirt on. I don’t get to come home after a long rehearsal and find Matt making an inspiring short-film without his shirt on. And I don’t get to wake up in the morning and find Wynn eating French Toast Crunch and reading Chesterton on the couch, without his shirt on. Don’t get too fixated on the imagery of those anecdotes, they're all hypotheticals anyways. The takeaway is, it's been tough leaving these communities that have shaped me, and putting down roots in a new place. For the first time in my life, I’m experiencing a feeling of true homesickness, for all the different homes I've left behind.
That being said, I’m also excited for this unique season of life. I get to learn a new city, to create my own communities out here, and to discover how my bizarre love for accounting will help me serve people. And little by little, I am becoming one with the Bay Area. I recently acquired a pair of the illustrious Allbirds, which I promptly thrashed in a surprising rainstorm. I’ve practiced calling “San Francisco” simply “The City”, which is confusing because there are probably 10 cities I go to more frequently than SF, but I guess it’s a thing. And I’m writing this blog post while sipping on a Hazy IPA at an outdoor Taphouse in December. If you just threw up a little in your mouth, I completely understand.
After a few months, our house has finally started to come together, and we’re excited to start filling it with actual people, and not just Yankee Candles and 10-hour Youtube videos of a crackling fireplace. This weekend, we’re hosting a Christmas party, where I look forward to teaching my colleagues why “All I Want for Christmas is You” is unequivocally the best Christmas song of our generation. I have to say, it’s a little strange to be back in a place where I can listen to that song while gardening sunflowers in shorts and a tank top, but I’m not complaining.
Thanks to the generous vacation time given by the folks at EY, I’ll be taking my talents home to St. Louis and LA this winter. That means that the next time you hear from me, I’ll be sitting by a roaring fire, snuggling with my dogs, praying for a White Christmas so I can smuggle some snowballs back home. Unfortunately, our house didn’t get around to making Christmas Cards this year. But if you do want to send us your Holiday Card, we can probably send you some fresh avocados in exchange. And that, is why I love California. Merry Christmas.
If you’ve been following along up to this point, then you’ve heard about a college graduation, a move to a new city, the 6-month journey of the CPA, busy-season, and my brother’s engagement. 2018 has been quite the ride. With all that, I imagine you’re probably like that kid from The Incredibles, just waiting for something amazing to happen here. Well, I should probably start by tempering your expectations a bit.
This last month has been marked by routines. And as many of you other recent graduates know, routines aren't always glamorous. For example, I can finally drive most places within a 5-mile radius without desperately relying on Waze. The farmer’s market checkout man and I are on a first-name basis - shoutout to Andre. And most importantly, I’ve finally synced up Alexa to play "You Make My Dreams" and turn on my Christmas lights with my morning alarm. This was a bigger accomplishment than it might seem. Apart from routines, I want to talk about two big things in this post - the complex idea of “Home”, and the complex idea of “The Bay Area”.
I'm no stranger to the state of California. As I tell people, "I'm LA, born and raised”. That is, until they ask me if I actually grew up in Los Angeles, and then I have to clarify that I lived in a small town next to Pasadena, where the Rose Bowl is, and the only times I really went to LA were for Dodger Games and dim sum. At this point, they usually see me for the fraud that I am. Nonetheless, I feel like I’ve driven in enough standstill traffic and complained enough about ridiculous rent prices to still be considered a California native, despite my 4-year hiatus to the illustrious Midwest.
So if California is where I was raised, why do I always have such a hard time explaining where I’m from? It’s really not that complicated - I grew up in SoCal, but my family moved to St. Louis, and then I went to school in Northern Indiana, but ended up Silicon Valley after graduation. Plenty of people have more complex origin stories than me, yet I still have a hard time articulating which place is actually my home.
From Southern California, I got my love of sunshine, authentic Mexican food, and rooting for half of the professional sports teams out there. From St. Louis, I got my love of saucy barbeque, the color of trees in October, and saying “y’all” when the situation doesn’t call for it. From Notre Dame I got my love of intellectual conversations in dining halls, complaining about snow but loving how picturesque it makes everything, and finding my self-worth in the success of a football team. And now, I’m trying figure out how this new home in Santa Clara fits into my story.
One of the biggest growing pains since moving out here has been turning our townhouse into a “home”. Having lived in a house with 6 people and 3 dogs, followed by a dorm with 150 people and 1 dog, I’ve always believed “feeling at home” meant being surrounded by people. And also animals. Since graduating, I’ve had a really hard time replicating this same sense of community.
I no longer get to walk back into The Lounge after class to find Charlie doing one-armed push ups without his shirt on. I don’t get to come home after a long rehearsal and find Matt making an inspiring short-film without his shirt on. And I don’t get to wake up in the morning and find Wynn eating French Toast Crunch and reading Chesterton on the couch, without his shirt on. Don’t get too fixated on the imagery of those anecdotes, they're all hypotheticals anyways. The takeaway is, it's been tough leaving these communities that have shaped me, and putting down roots in a new place. For the first time in my life, I’m experiencing a feeling of true homesickness, for all the different homes I've left behind.
That being said, I’m also excited for this unique season of life. I get to learn a new city, to create my own communities out here, and to discover how my bizarre love for accounting will help me serve people. And little by little, I am becoming one with the Bay Area. I recently acquired a pair of the illustrious Allbirds, which I promptly thrashed in a surprising rainstorm. I’ve practiced calling “San Francisco” simply “The City”, which is confusing because there are probably 10 cities I go to more frequently than SF, but I guess it’s a thing. And I’m writing this blog post while sipping on a Hazy IPA at an outdoor Taphouse in December. If you just threw up a little in your mouth, I completely understand.
After a few months, our house has finally started to come together, and we’re excited to start filling it with actual people, and not just Yankee Candles and 10-hour Youtube videos of a crackling fireplace. This weekend, we’re hosting a Christmas party, where I look forward to teaching my colleagues why “All I Want for Christmas is You” is unequivocally the best Christmas song of our generation. I have to say, it’s a little strange to be back in a place where I can listen to that song while gardening sunflowers in shorts and a tank top, but I’m not complaining.
Thanks to the generous vacation time given by the folks at EY, I’ll be taking my talents home to St. Louis and LA this winter. That means that the next time you hear from me, I’ll be sitting by a roaring fire, snuggling with my dogs, praying for a White Christmas so I can smuggle some snowballs back home. Unfortunately, our house didn’t get around to making Christmas Cards this year. But if you do want to send us your Holiday Card, we can probably send you some fresh avocados in exchange. And that, is why I love California. Merry Christmas.
Still warmly because it hasn't dropped below 45,
Danny
I grew up hearing "Home is where you hang your hat." You have been fortunate to hang your hat in many places - gathering love, family and friends along the way. Enjoy creating yet another place of memories! And thank you for putting such a big grin on my face while I sit here looking at the small remnants of our blizzard in 25 degree sunshine! Miss you more than I can say! Garden on!
ReplyDeleteEnjoy the Bay area. You have cousins there in Oakland and Orinda and I imagine they went through the same thing when they relocated there from the East Coast. They miss the snow and cold weather but not enough to move back East. I love reading your blog.
ReplyDeleteThanks for the update Danny, glad to hear that you're doing it! (By it I mean the ever-illusive idea of "adulting," whatever that actually means. Hope to see you back at another visit to ND soon!
ReplyDelete