I am currently writing from a Starbucks in Bellingham, Washington. I’m here because tomorrow morning, at 8a, I have a job interview. The position is a customer service post with a small regional airline that has a terminal here in town. The job would require customer interaction, as well as dealing with freight and logistics for air cargo. It’s a step into a world I never thought I’d even consider, but, well, here I am.
I’ve spent all my time up here, since arriving just before noon, wandering around town. I had to navigate the local Fedex Office location in order to print off my resume and a form I need to fill out tonight and bring with me to the interview tomorrow. In that wander around, though, I’ve definitely felt a warmth here. There’s a community here I could easily become part of. It’s a small town on the north Washington coast, just at the end of the Puget Sound. It’s not far from Seattle or Vancouver (by train or bus), and there are *tons* of college kids here.
The town has all that I could ever want, and oddly, it reminds me of Portland, Maine, but with a west coast flair. There’s a bit of grit about the place that I like. There’s the sea, not far away, where there is also a lovely park that I was told to visit by a friend of a friend, whom I’ve befriended too, I guess, and it was just perfect. I watched a sailboat turn and tack into the light breeze coming in from the west, the waves breaking on barnacled rocks, and the cry of an occasional gull came up from the waterline.
I could see myself making the jump up here. I could see myself becoming a local, settling in for a year or so, and seeing where I stand come the end of next summer. If I get the job, I would need to work as much as possible to stay ahead of the bills and such. It would be a tight life, but I could manage it.
Still, in the back of my throat, there’s this lump. This would be the first time I’ve ever truly gone out on my own. I wouldn’t have a roommate, and I do not want one. It would all be on my shoulders. I would need to take full responsibility for the upkeep of my home, for feeding and clothing myself, for all of the things that I’ve had others in my life to help with. I’d have time on my own. I’d have my own space. It would be truly Thom Time.
That lump, though, is a big one. I know I can do this. I know it in my bones. I also know it’s way past time that I do something like this. It would be me, my little job, and my writing. Constantly writing.
Of course, this all hinges on tomorrow morning. I need to route my ride. I need to get to the place I’m staying tonight. I need to relax and find something to eat. All this headspace time is hard stuff sometimes.