A Change is Gonna Come (Max in Real Life)

When I was a little girl I knew that I would grow up and move to Toronto. And I did. There were three specific streets I wanted to live on and I've lived on nearly on all of them.  So that's pretty much mission accomplished too...so now what do I do?

Moving here was by far the biggest change I've ever inflicted on myself. Way bigger and way harder (pause?) than I thought it would be, but definitely the best move I ever made. Every time I make a trip home, every time I look through an old friend's photos on Facebook, every time I hear about another friend getting married or having a baby I'm convinced that moving here was the right thing to do.

After 12 years though, I'm starting to feel antsy. Toronto is amazing, I love it. My sister is here, my friends, and a lot of my family even though I do everything I can to avoid them. If I have a home in this world at all (I feel like I don't but that's another post for another Thursday) it's Toronto. But Toronto is just not that fun anymore.

Maybe that's the wrong way to put it, considering my life consists of laughing my ass off with my friends, dressing up and strutting my hot ass when I feel like it, and retreating to the solitude of my apartment when it all becomes too much. I can't say that that's not a fun life. But it's just...it's not new anymore. Everyone I've ever wanted to befriend here is now my friend. I have now (as of last Wednesday) attended every party I've ever wanted to attend. I've slept with met every dude I ever crushed on. What's left?

The idea of packing up and moving to a new city has been calling me lately. I'm dreaming about it, day dreaming about it. Researching it when I should be working and writing and re-writing my top 5 list of cities I want to live in. Discussing it lengthily and lustily with my sister. All of a sudden I - the queen of routine, she who shuns broad horizons - want to pack it up and plant my fork in uncharted territory.

Unfortunately I no longer have the blissful ignorance of my early twenties to stop me from considering things like what if I can't get a job? What if I get too lonely? How will I move all my books? I'm not leaving my books! What if I never find anyone one to have sex with hate it? Not to mention that if I were to leave the country I'd be forced to say goodbye to Timothy's and Tim Hortons (I know they have Tim Hortons elsewhere in the world but I just don't believe it will taste the same). And the fact that I hated it here when I first moved makes me wonder....what if I uproot my whole life and decide I want the old one back?

All the same though I think I'd like to try it. At the very least, it would give me a lot to blog about.

But what do you guys think? Should I take a leap and head for parts unknown or just "stop home" as my dad would say? Have you ever made a big move or taken a similar leap? Do you regret it? And if you have suggestions of where I should go....drop em in the comments.

p.s. I know I've been uncharacteristically maudlin on here the last little while but I'm coming with some comedy for you tomorrow....fret not.