burning the maps

I had this Moment a few days ago.

I was on the #7 bus. The best part of taking the bus near my aparment is that the bus drivers announce the stops, and when the bus approaches Aloha St., the driver calls out "ALOHA!" And if you're coming back up the hill and leaving the University District, the driver yells, "Aloha! Welcome to Capitol Hill!" It kills me every time. When I was looking at the map of Seattle before visiting, I said I thought it was really funny that there was a street named "Aloha" -- it's not like it's even in a Hawaiian district, or near anything other than streets named after dead politicians and 12th, 13th, 14th Ave. etc., so why Aloha? I didn't know where exactly it was, but I said I wanted to live on Aloha essentially because it made no sense.

I told Mon Frere this as we were apartment hunting, and he said, "Well let's look at places on Aloha," and I said, "Isn't that totally ridiculous?" And he said, "It's as valid a reason as any." But it seemed too much, so I signed my lease on the banal 12th Ave E and was on my way. Leaving my new apartment in the opposite direction, I looked up and saw the Aloha St. sign. So I live on 12th at Aloha. By accident.

So when I was coming home the other night, and got off the bus at Aloha, I thought back to how I wanted to live there, and how I had this whole plan. I wanted to move to Seattle and get a little studio with a porch on Aloha near Volunteer Park, write for threeimaginarygirls.com, quit smoking, work at the University of Washington and meet a cute boy to go to tons of rock shows with, take yoga classes, get a volunteer job at P.A.W.S., go running in the rain and adopt bunny buddy for Kobie. Then I would climb the water tower at Volunteer Park, taking pictures of the sunset and the Space Needle, saying to myself: "I did this. I did this."

The moment was anticlimactic. And it wasn't at Volunteer Park. It was crossing 10th by Aloha, almost getting killed by a powder blue VW bug with one headlight. I had accomplished my laundry list of goals, large and small. Check, check, check. I was done.

Now what?

I hadn't thought about the "now what?" part. I guess I figured it would take longer than 7 months to get to that point.

So today the Goddess of Excel Spreadsheets, the Mother of All To-do Lists, the Obsessive Planner with my clipboard and visor, walkie talkie and stop watch, is left without a docket. And it's really uncomfortable.

I've been doing the crazy career thing. The what do I want to do with my life?! thing. I'm in it for the Big Questions, now, boys and girls. The ones you're supposed to talk about at parties in college after a handful of philosophy classes. The ones you write bad poetry about, wide eyed and optimistic.

I'll be twenty-nine tomorrow. Shouldn't I know the meaning of life by now?