15 months and 10,574 pictures later, it was time to go home.
Where was home now? I didn’t know. But I knew I needed to be in one place, with structure. I needed a job. A community.
When I left San Francisco in January 2014, I left for good. I packed up or gave away everything I owned. I didn’t have a storage unit or apartment waiting for me. Just my cat, who probably had forgotten who I was while he was staying with my parents. I missed seeing my family. I missed familiar people and places.
So I moved to Boston (actually Somerville). I was sort of returning “home” and yet I wasn’t retracing my steps. I grew up in the suburbs outside of Boston and I knew enough about the city to know that it had lots of people like me. It wouldn’t be forever, but for now I could be close to family and the tech scene was sizable.
I set career goals too. Work in tech but do something more fulfilling than work in “social”, or making rich people richer. No more startups. Maybe biomedical tech. Learn to code? Don’t be a flake.
When I lived in the Bay Area, I was the epitome of the San Francisco Maybe, never committing to anything for very long, whether it was dinner plans next week or staying at a job for more than a year. That was my goal of this next phase: stay a little longer and don’t hit the road when the going gets tough. So I stuck around a while.