Moving to the East Coast is a mouthful.

A move to the East Coast popped into my head when I was 22-ish sometime in 2009 or 2010 when I was sitting in my flourescent mosquito netted room in Vietnam. I never did open that window. I wanted to move here for several reasons but mostly to see and feel another part of the United States that I had not really given the time for - geographical barriers perhaps. Much of our nation's culture is rooted in the East Coast. It makes sense doesn't it - after all our "founding" happened on this side, Washington D.C. is here, and Matt Damon's from Boston. How about them apples?

The accents, the culture, how people acted, and felt and talked about things. I felt that this would inform my politics, education, and intellect. Everything that I had known was just still so little. Just as I had made my move to Vietnam - I wanted to feel it, I wanted to experience it. I may not seem like it, but deep down inside, I really don't give a crap about your perspective. Yes, I can be swayed perhaps temporarily. However, I will not believe what you say to me or really absorb it until I myself judge or go through the experience itself.

My curiosity lead me here, along with the departure of my childhood. I often feel that my childhood is something that has passed, and I certainly feel that I've entered another "era" of my life. Perhaps it was the process of falling in love for the first time and then leaving it behind. Perhaps it was just making a move to another city in a way that isn't quite the same as living in Vietnam for two years when I had yet really felt strong pain or heartbreak. Perhaps my heart broke in more ways than one. Whatever it was, it left me in what felt like another part of my life - so distant, literally and figuratively. I found myself in Baltimore.

Baltimore is an interesting city. Much of what we may know of it comes from media and shows such as "The Wire." Yet, so many things are filmed here, House of Cards, Veep, and so much more. Aside from tax cuts, there's something about Baltimore that is film worthy. From the beautiful homes of Baltimore, to the simultaneous small town and urban city feel that you get from walking from one town to the next.

Baltimore is like that place that you never think about. Sorta like - Ontario, California. No one ever thinks about Ontario, California, but hell I spent almost 15 of my most formative years of my life there. I am so very Ontario, Californian. I enjoy suburban convenience, I like my peace, I think cows are cute, farmers were my friends, and I enjoy small towns. I grew up in a neighborhood immersed by the working class. Moving to the East Coast and being in such a privileged institution, I am removed from the working class. Instead there's this constant juxtaposition I am facing. Here, I've placed myself in a different setting, removed from the local community. That is something that I have not been able to shake off since I've moved here.

I lived in Bolton Hill for a short three months. It's one of those strange places in Baltimore that you would never find yourself in, but I did. Nestled next to the Maryland Institute of College of Arts - I moved here temporarily and lived with a nice family. They were into theater, photography, you know the ivy-league/private school artsy kind. I mean to open their home to people - it was already "different" for this neighborhood. Bolton Hill is one of those places where people have fresh milk delivered to their door. People here also have cars but they will get their organic groceries delivered. People here have grand pianos in their windows and their homes are impeccably decorated with authentic vintage furniture.  Not the goodwill kind but the kind passed down by generations. Bolton Hill is where Frank Underwood lives. There is only one cafe and one restaurant in Bolton Hill and no grocery stores. People here detest the "save-a-lot" a few blocks over. They have their own separate Halloween the weekend before the real one (which I am convinced has racist undertones). There is a man that literally vacuums the streets every week. I was constantly shifting here - as an Asian female I knew I was perceived as "non-threatening" to the people of Bolton Hill - I even started grating my cheese. This place bothered me, and I would never live here again.

I felt like writing this because I've had a mentally tiring week. There is something so fundamentally missing from the way people interact with each other -  a connectedness to the work - humanity.

Tomorrow I have a whole day to myself. I'll see where it takes me.