I’ve moved a lot in my life. For the past 10 years, I have moved once a year, whether it was to another dorm room, a new apartment, or even to another country. You could say I’m hopelessly nomadic, yes. And all of this moving about as a necessity has become something of an addiction.
Reasons I’ve moved include:
-Needing a roommate
-Becoming a Resident Advisor (i.e. QUEEN OF ALL DORM-DOM)
-Going home for the summer
-Relocating to South Korea for my new job
-Quitting my job in South Korea
-Missing Korea so much, turning around and going back
-Getting married and relocating to Canada
-Canada kicked out butts and we high-tailed it to my parents house in the US
-Back to Korea, our safe haven that gives out free apartments because of my native English fluency
And NOW: I will be moving once again.
Moving is an addiction because each time I begin to feel disenchanted with a place, I know there’s solace in another place. Yeah, I’m a runner.
But this time, I’ve gotten tired of running. I want to settle down. I want to plant a garden. I want to take walks through my quiet woods. To raise chickens. To make breakfast and chat with my family and drink tea, and know that I am allowed to accumulate belongings because I don't have to pack up and go anywhere in six months.
I’m going home soon. And this nomad will be settled and happy.