Perhaps as I fulfill each of my goals that I never thought possible before- moving here, getting a PhD, getting a full time teaching position, landing a publishing deal- not to mention the insanity of being married!!- I still need something that seems fantastical, something unattainable, something to reach for. Is this human nature, to always be going for the proverbial next brass ring?
I have been down in Cornwall now for 3 days by myself- well, I have our dog as a surly companion. I absolutely love this little beach town I am in. It seems the vision of the pretend land of Santa Cruz I have in my mind- no insincere tech assholes named Clay or Trip wandering the streets, no one cruising around with perfectly distressed £250 pounds jeans, no drugged out punks with their dogs panhandling. I went down to the beach and actually saw that the lifeguard uniform here is partially a speedo! It is so 1986!
While this town, Bude, lacks Kong's market and their egg rolls, Cole's BBQ and the Boardwalk, it has very friendly people, enough open water that people are not crashing into each other for waves, and, most importantly, a vintage clothing store named after Miss Havisham in Great Expectations.
When am I moving here? Or maybe, it is always a case of the mind moves in, fastening onto a goal for which we churn away at our daily grinds.