Resident Tourist

The feeling has been with me for as long as I can remember. I just never had a name for it. I was reminded of it when I read an article in the New York Times about the similarities of Brooklyn and the East Bay. At the end of the article there was a quote from Danny Hoch:

“What I see as the reason for so many [New Yorkers] having come to the Bay, and so many Bay folk moving to [Brooklyn] (tens of thousands literally) is that each group has become accustomed to the alienation or perceived impossibility of staying where they are...Although I think each side sees the other as an amazing place to live and spend time, neither sees it as a place to actually stay forever. Both are nostalgic for home.

“Each becomes the new ‘resident tourist’."

Resident Tourist? Yikes.

Someone put a moniker on the vast droves of people like me who just can't seem to sit still. People who keep the moving boxes tucked away in the back of the closet so as to avoid those embarrassing trips to grocery store dumpsters before the next new address. People who have forever been penciled into the address books of their friends and family.

In fact, I've had so many addresses in my life that I have actually forgotten some of them. Seriously. Within LA alone, I've had seven addresses in ten and a half years, and that doesn't count the addresses I had while working on location (if you're keeping track, add five more).

At this point, I have Uhaul on speed dial. (If I get my frequent customer card stamped one more time, they're going to throw in free wardrobe boxes. Yea!)

What the hell is up with my serious lack of roots? Why can't I bring myself to hang pictures on the walls and unload the dozen or so boxes that are in my closets? Why do I have one foot out the door constantly?

Is this indicative of a strong desire to see the world or the "perceived impossibility of staying where [I am]"?

Either way, I've already got my sights set on New York. I don't know about Brooklyn, though. I hear the new hot spot is Astoria.