It has been a busy week. My house-hunt came to an end, thankfully, and I now have a landlord who drives around a RV tugging a boat up and down sloping hill-roads.

There were many applications, as always, but I played dirty this time, having my mind set on that place. I asked about his boat, about the best surf-spots around, laughed along when he asked about my singleness a lot, listened to his tales about his kids and wife number 2, and about his tattoos. He had many stories about the changes in demographics, lifestyles, and the fabric of local institutions over the past three decades. The house-hunt had worn me down, but getting to sign that lease revved me up right back. I am now excited about the move, about this new location, and wonder if I’ll catch religion thanks to the churches nestled on that block three to a house.

There was a major lawsuit settled this week and many of my current co-workers were relieved about that. A party happened on Friday, and people spoke of the long days of stress that impacted their work. Lips loosened, aided by the late hour and a great deal of alcohol. Some spoke of their families, of how they wished their wives put out more, some spoke of mid-life crises brought about by having their first child, some spoke of immigration and how it wore them down. They spoke of the President and of Russia, of the tabloid affair scandal that is the latest on the menu. As the only woman at the table, and as someone who was still new to their group, I didn’t have a lot in common. In this field, as time goes by, people from my background are outnumbered badly, given the huge amount of influx of people from other fields these days, attracted as they are to the acknowledged next big thing. I listened to their conversations carefully, curious about what made these men, curious about their dreams and drives. I think this has always been my greatest fault, this curiosity to understand and see the fabric of another mind, even at the expense of great trouble to my own. This fault brings me to engage with strangers even when I should just stay at home and do something less fraught like baking a cake. Sobriety that night was low, and I am told I spoke very little, but that whenever I spoke, I was fixated on Florence to illustrate city-state theories. Apparently, even a coworker, who was trying to hit on me a few times, was treated to a lecture on what taxation and tithes are actually meant to enforce. Good. If taxes keep them away, I’d wear a placard of the tax code about my neck all the bloody time.

It has been logistically draining to plan this move. I have been here for a considerable while, and have a great fondness for the old redwood trees that surround me. Time it is, though, to fly away, to somewhere new, to somewhere closer to the sea. I’ve had negative associations with moving in the past, due to the reasons that necessitated the move, but this one is voluntary and very much one spurred by a desire to go somewhere new. It is perhaps the first time I am going somewhere instead of leaving somewhere. So while I’ll miss the trees, I am looking forward to everything else that I’ll gain.

I am letting friends pick dates for me, and it has been an improvement over the usual, and I hope that will bring out the non-tech types that I tend to like more. I have spent too much time in close company with the tech sorts, with and without the influence of alcohol, and don’t want that in my life entwined close. Until April, and if nothing on that front improves or changes, I’ll plan a move across to the East coast.