Inherent in the idea of moving to a new place is the promise of a new and better you. In the new place you might become the kind of person who bakes bread, or rides horses, or works out every day. Even if you already theoretically have the ability to do these things where you currently are, starting over in a new place makes them seem magically more achievable.
When I moved to Washington, DC in 2011, I decided I was going to be the kind of person who goes to live shows. I was tired of hearing about bands I loved going on tour and wishing I could be there; my new life in the nation’s capital meant that I could easily go to the 9:30 Club and the Black Cat and the U Street Music Hall. (The Anthem didn’t exist yet but if it had I…definitely couldn’t have afforded the tickets.) This sounded right to me; it seemed like an attainable plan. And maybe it would have been if I had been in my twenties. But as a person in my thirties, reality quickly asserted itself, and after only a couple shows of standing shoulder to shoulder in packed rooms on concrete floors, my feet and knees and back aching after a full day of work and before having to wake up early for another full day of work, I quickly realized that actually, I would rather be home, in bed. And in bed was free!
Over the years there were other failed attempts at finding my “thing”: book clubs and writing groups, volunteering in theaters and animal shelters, guitar lessons and ukulele lessons, guided meditation. Some of them I tried out over several weeks or months before giving up, some I tried once and never went back.
Before we moved to California last year, I decided the kind of person I was going to be here would join a climbing gym and take fencing classes. Rock climbing seemed doable to me, like a puzzle you solve using your body. Plus, as an added benefit, my arms would get so toned! But one class in I realized that in reality, rock climbing combines the tedium of knot-tying with the thrill of potentially plummeting to your death. I was relieved when the class was over and glad to have tried it once, but didn’t see the need to ever do it again.
The fencing seed was planted during my freshman year of college when I joined a recreational fencing club on a whim. (The seed for that was planted by Kat on The Real World: London. I thought she was so cool.) The “instructor” was a fellow student who had only recently started learning fencing himself. He would briefly give us some instruction (“Do it like this”), run us through a few drills, and we would spend the rest of the time jabbing each other with swords. It was fun! It was a sport where quick reflexes were more important than strength and I could hold my own against or even beat the boys I was fencing with (there was only one other girl). And so, a few months ago I entered our local community center twenty-five years older and nervous but hopeful about picking back up a sport that I had once considered to be my “thing.” But once again, reality asserted itself against the fantasy, as it always does. It turns out, I had never properly learned to fence, and instead of the joyful chaos of yore, there was a lot of turning your wrist 45 degrees back and forth and lunging repeatedly until you were sore and tired (but only on one side of your body, until you hobbled out of class feeling like one leg was longer than the other), and absolutely no jabbing each other with swords. I understand that we were building a foundation of knowledge and that all the drills were presumably leading us to a point where we would, one day, get to the fun part. But there was a limit to how much time I was willing to commit to the tedium of rotating my arm 45 degrees and lunging at targets, and I had reached it. I stuck it out for the 8 weeks but decided not to sign up for the next session.
And I was thing-less once more.
At this point I am at the end of my (hopefully securely knotted and anchored) rope. I have no idea if I am just a big-time quitter or if everyone goes through something like this. So please, tell me: do you have a “thing?” How did you find it? Why do you love it? Do you have any ideas for things I haven’t yet tried? (Because it feels like I have tried all of them.) Also, should we start a book club?