It’s really remarkable when you think about it.
Much love to the East Side of Cleveland, where’st I grew up over the last 20 years, but it was time to get out.
I first tried the Far East. 日本に行きたいだね～。
Spirit not broken, just seriously maimed, I set toward the West Coast. Of the States. Being “formally trained” as a computer scientist, San Jose seemed to make sense. At worst, Portland. Or Seattle.
Ow! My spirit!
Dejected, re-settled for Cleveland. Nay, the ‘rents house. Out East. Great place, great people. Painful scenery. Mind you, I’m not an East Side hater; much the opposite. When you know where to go, ’tis great. But you have to be in the know (w00tz to Coventry).
I never seemed in teh know.
The west always intrigued me. Only thirty minutes away, but a different world: walkable, gourmet… mildly “fabulous” if you subscribe to the rumors. Too bad the fabulousness wouldn’t do me a damn bit of good.
I get word of an exercise in capitalism named “Crocker Park” (kudos to anyone who befouls that name in a way I haven’t) from a relative who tours the northeastern sector of Ohio far more than I. It would seem it’s epicness continued into living quarters.
I figured a mall with apartments would be only “meh” on a scale of “lulz” to “omgwtfbbq!!!111oneone”. Y’know. Metric system.
What I wasn’t ready for was the sheer, mind-blowing awesomeness that is Westlake, Ohio. At least, in the range that Ohio is in on said awesomeness scale. Because:
read_as_fortune_cookie(“position is relative”);
For those of you who don’t speak computerese, please read the phrase, “position is relative” as if it were a fortune cookie.
I sit here today a new resident of the far-west side of Cleveland. It feels like a different world. The people understand how to act…for Clevelandites. Example: I go running this afternoon and pass a woman and her dog. Large dog.
On the east side, this dog would freak out, start barking, jumping up, and thrash it’s owner forward, resulting in a proper owner face plant, and subsequently dragged across the pavement.
This canine remained calm, walked past with little more than a sniff, and the woman had the presence of mind (while on a cell phone no less) to shorten the leash such that I wouldn’t be consumed by a rabid wolf.
So now, I pretentiously sip wine, nibble cheese, and arrogantly believe that I live the best possible lifestyle in the Cleveland area.
Or maybe I’m just happy to be out of my parent’s house.
I’ll let you decide which.