I suddenly remember the day I tested for my black belt. We had our Tae kwon do portion and our physical portion. I was given a blue bracelet to wear during the physical portion because of my asthma, intended to place me in a lower-intensity group. I tore it off and joined the normal group, and while we were doing army crawls my pants kept sliding down.
I just had a moment of revelation--I wish I could live on the East Coast. I like the city atmosphere, I like the fact that I'll be close to a bunch of my college friends, I like the fact that every state is driving distance from the next, I like the existence of actual seasons, I like the fashion, the crowds, the rudeness, the culture, the diversity, the dancing. And I think, more than anything, I like the memories that I've made here and the people that I've met. California is beautiful with its pleasant weather, amicable population, and highways that are wide and scenic and go on forever. But it's home, and with that title comes the claustrophobic sense of comfort and monotony that it implies. It's my personal limbo, where no risks are taken, nothing ever happens, and like generic elevator jazz, it swallows me with its emptiness and drives me insane.