One of the less depressing stories amid the election aftermath concerns itself where President Obama's family might move to after his tenure ends next month. It appears they will stay in the Washington, D.C. area so that their youngest daughter, Sasha, can finish school.
I'm grateful we never had to move when I was a kid. I switched schools often, but never a mailing address. It wasn't until my naive self got to college where I learned more about such normal concepts as split families and military ones that move around often. Sure, I was familiar with those circumstances, but never experienced them firsthand. Everyone was just...married, and there, right where I knew them. Except my late aunt's family. They moved around some, but always stayed within the city limits. Their son, my cousin, never had to transfer schools. He did, however, have to walk to a public school for a few years while living directly across from a private school. At least Sasha Obama doesn't have to worry about that setup.
A long time ago I made a decision not to plant roots where I grew up. For a couple years I had already been researching new places to go and explore, but the post-graduation haze of regretful decisions and stark alienation kicked that relocating bug into overdrive. I tried sticking around the area for a short time hoping for some sort of redemption, but it was to no avail. It was time to go.
For the past few years, I have been living in an apartment that rests on stilts. It sounds fun to say when describing it to others. The stilts aren't some wobbly concoction holding up a shanty-looking building - far from it. The stilts are due to both the layout of the land and the fact the buildings sit alongside a river. While we have our own parking space at street level, the stilts made for ample parking underneath the buildings. Those parking spots, however, were privy to any flooding that might occur due to the river cresting. And this did happen once - an all day rainstorm that forced the river to rise past the embankment, onto the small adjacent lawn, and spilling into the lot. Everyone that parked under the buildings were told to move their cars in the wee hours of the morning. I had never witnessed flooding in person, and now there I was, watching the river transform the back lot into a brown wading pool. Thankfully, the flooding was minimal, and caused no damage to the buildings themselves. And aside from occasional light tremors making lamp shades wobble in place, the apartments themselves are solid.
2016 has been a whirlwind of epic proportions. Too many notable personalities we hoped didn't pass so soon, did just that. Almost predictably, America elevated a reality television star to its most pronounced stage. The media, with its forged news and questionable ethics, lost its goddamn mind. Amazon, which put millions of bookstores out of business, opened up their own physical bookstore. The Cubs even won the World Series. It has been a lot to unpack.
2016 was also the year we decided to move on from that place on stilts. A neurotic succubus that settled in below helped augment the process. It was a nice stay, but it was simply time to go. Time for that next adventure.
I'm grateful we never had to move when I was a kid. I switched schools often, but never a mailing address. It wasn't until my naive self got to college where I learned more about such normal concepts as split families and military ones that move around often. Sure, I was familiar with those circumstances, but never experienced them firsthand. Everyone was just...married, and there, right where I knew them. Except my late aunt's family. They moved around some, but always stayed within the city limits. Their son, my cousin, never had to transfer schools. He did, however, have to walk to a public school for a few years while living directly across from a private school. At least Sasha Obama doesn't have to worry about that setup.
A long time ago I made a decision not to plant roots where I grew up. For a couple years I had already been researching new places to go and explore, but the post-graduation haze of regretful decisions and stark alienation kicked that relocating bug into overdrive. I tried sticking around the area for a short time hoping for some sort of redemption, but it was to no avail. It was time to go.
For the past few years, I have been living in an apartment that rests on stilts. It sounds fun to say when describing it to others. The stilts aren't some wobbly concoction holding up a shanty-looking building - far from it. The stilts are due to both the layout of the land and the fact the buildings sit alongside a river. While we have our own parking space at street level, the stilts made for ample parking underneath the buildings. Those parking spots, however, were privy to any flooding that might occur due to the river cresting. And this did happen once - an all day rainstorm that forced the river to rise past the embankment, onto the small adjacent lawn, and spilling into the lot. Everyone that parked under the buildings were told to move their cars in the wee hours of the morning. I had never witnessed flooding in person, and now there I was, watching the river transform the back lot into a brown wading pool. Thankfully, the flooding was minimal, and caused no damage to the buildings themselves. And aside from occasional light tremors making lamp shades wobble in place, the apartments themselves are solid.
2016 has been a whirlwind of epic proportions. Too many notable personalities we hoped didn't pass so soon, did just that. Almost predictably, America elevated a reality television star to its most pronounced stage. The media, with its forged news and questionable ethics, lost its goddamn mind. Amazon, which put millions of bookstores out of business, opened up their own physical bookstore. The Cubs even won the World Series. It has been a lot to unpack.
2016 was also the year we decided to move on from that place on stilts. A neurotic succubus that settled in below helped augment the process. It was a nice stay, but it was simply time to go. Time for that next adventure.
We don't know what the new year holds, nor anything beyond that. Nobody really does. But the one thing we can probably all agree on, is that we need a new start. A new perspective. New hope.
And given how 2016 ended, praying likely won't hurt.
And given how 2016 ended, praying likely won't hurt.