Dear Bay Area, We Need to Talk...

Yesterday I went outside to discover my car missing. WTF? Did it get towed? Nope. Only conclusion? Some punk Haight street kids hotwired it and took off on a joy ride (or some such thing).

Then it hit me when I woke up this morning... wait, I parked it on Haight, not Broderick. That was the one street of my neighborhood I hadn't walked on when searching for it. And lo and behold, there it was. I had reported it stolen.. I mean, I was like 95% positive I had parked it on Broderick. That's because I had, but thought better of it and moved it to Haight.

And man, I know my nickname is "Spacey Lacey," but that's a whole new level. It's "crazy, insane, out-of-her mind Spacey Lacey."

What brought about my realization that my car was indeed on Haight street was that I remembered my roommate sending me a distressing text message. I had gotten so upset when I read it, that I just plain stopped to think about where I was. So when I went out to check on my car I went to the place I was sure I had parked it (even though I had only parked it there for a minute??).

Life in California offers me so much that I can't get back home. For instance, it was not hard to get to work without a car - I do that most days. I can ride my bike to the ocean. I can walk to Golden Gate Park (and world class museums). I can taste some of the best food in the world. Sometimes it's 70 degrees in January. I can check out so many live music shows it makes my head spin. Every weekend there is something new to do (well, nearly).

Starting in high school, I dreamed of moving away to California. So in a way, when I moved here, I achieved a dream. And I feel that in a large part, I have lived it. I have made some really good friends and scraped by to take advantage of a lifestyle I have grown quite fond of. But in the last year, my resolve has strengthened to... well, grow up. At first, I thought there was no way I'd leave here. You'd have to get me on a plane kicking and screaming to leave this place I love so much.

These days though, I am starting to think that California doesn't really love me back. I love my job, but can't make a living out of it. I love my flat and my neighborhood, but the roommate situation has not been easy. I love my friends, but have dealt with a number of stressful social situations. I feel a constant pressure to find a good job, to make more money, to make more friends. I am equating the lost car with my lost mind. I feel like I've finally lost it.

Plus the big one: the one thing California will always be lacking. Family.

When I was working in DC, one of the techs started asking me questions about New Mexico and what my plans were for my future. At that time I wanted to continue living on the east coast, so that's what I told him. Then he told me some strange story about migratory birds who always return to the same body of water. I gave him a confused look, and he said, "We're meant to be where we were raised. It's biological." And I didn't really believe him at the time, and I don't think it's true for everyone, but the idea of "home" being Albuquerque for me is starting to make more sense.

In addition to the niece who will be showing her pretty face in April, extended members of my family are also having children. There's nine-month-old Madison, daughter of my "second brother," Sean. And of course, twin Fleming boys arriving in June.

All these new additions pull at the heart strings, of course. But lately I have been realizing more that I would rather be around for small family gatherings on Friday evenings than partying in the Mission. Sure, I wish I could be near my family and a stones throw from the Pacific Ocean, but for now, that's not happening.

So, with all that said, I think the time has come for me to head home. I still feel like I have a lot to learn from my job, and that there is unfinished business that needs taking care of. But I am 95% sure that 2010 is the year I grow up and move home. (We'll see if I'm as right about this as I was about my car being parked on Broderick)....