Bye, bye California. It's been nice.

I remember first coming out to California. I had done a single semester in college, I was engaged, and I had great ambitions for a career in journalism. So what, I was leaving behind my fiancée? California was the land of opportunity, and San Francisco was going to rescue me from the lack of intellectual companionship that I had. So, before I moved, I went shopping for cold-weather appropriate clothes- only half of which made it into my suitcase, seeing as the other half of my suitcase space was dominated by all the books I decided were absolutely necessary to my survival until we could get a house. Little did I know the cloth pants and hoodies I was buying were unacceptable in snobby San Francisco. The books, however, were welcome. I changed a lot over my four years. I kept my lessons from San Francisco when I moved to Southern Cali. I discovered there is no better outfit than a black longsleeve, tight jeans, and a pair of black knee-high stilettos. I learned banking is a job I’m actually very good at, and is also a job that pays far more than journalism. Gucci, Coach and Dior have become my brands of choice, taking the place of Target and Charlotte Russe. I learned how to apply makeup, how to be snotty as hell, and how to decide if a restaurant was worth my time just by standing outside of it. Also learned engagements don’t usually work out when the two of you are hundreds of miles apart.Yes, I am different now. But some things are still the same. Take for instance, the fact that I am currently staring at my suitcase, trying to decide if I really need five hardbacks to come with me when the moving truck will drop off our things in Arizona in a matter of days. I figure the paperbacks don’t count, they’re lighter. There’s about ten of those.I’m heading back to the same damn place I started, and I don’t know what to make of it. I’m ready for Arizona, but is Arizona ready for me?