"life for rent"

So it goes. It's nearly 4.30am, Wednesday morning, and I'm listening to that Dido song. And I can't help wondering what it was that I gave up to move here to Oregon, to a small college town - to a beautiful, sweet man who somehow managed to make me crawl out of my self-cathected prison and fall in love with him.

I saw a position open at the San Francisco Museum Of Modern Art. One that I know I'm qualified for, and pays a little more than the highest salary I've ever made years ago. I briefly browsed through the rentals in the SF Chronicles - many little studio apartments deep in the city going for around $800, perfect for me and for a simple, modest, cosmopolitan life I would want. In one of the only two cities in the U.S. I want to live in besides my native Chicago (Seattle is the other one). I'd again be working where I want to be, a top cultural institution. I'd have time to make my art, write my stories, and live interestingly enough to make new stories.

And here I am in a small college town in Oregon with a small town culture. I'm struggling to find some kind of job here, and not surprisingly the pickings are extremely slim. Almost non-existent. While the man I moved for.....well, let's just say he needs a great amount of work on his communication skills and self expression. He's just.....

I need to go to bed now. Guess I'll continue this blogging a little later today. And yet here I am fantasizing about living a more dynamic, culturally enriched, and philosophically rewarding life in San Francisco...