Farewell CrackCity

When I think about my "Bay Area" transplant experience, it's not without remembering how I first started here.  In my first year alone, I moved nomadically throughout California like a hermit shedding it's home from shell to shell.  A snapshot of 2012 for a cup of tea, anyone?

San Diego - 5 years > Northridge - 2 months > West Covina - 2 weeks > Berkeley - 1 month > Santa Clara - 2 months > SF, Tenderloin District - 3 months > Fremont - 2 months > SF, Nobhill - 6 months > Berkeley - 1 year

My little green Corolla did some damage as I became a professional mover, jamming everything I had into its trunk, backseats and passenger seat.  I moved 9 times in a timespan of 18 months; each move a story that may be too personal, or rather, too exhausting to tell.  The path I took was tumultuous.  Draining.  Heartbreaking at certain points.  Bittersweet at others.  Though I am better for it, I was just so damn tired as it seemed to never end.  I had a permanent side-eye by move #7 foreal.

But like all things, that period of transience did come to an end.  And as I packed up my Inner Sunset room - where I had settled and lived for a full 3 years - and reflected on years 2015 to present day, I can't believe how quickly time flew and how different permanency felt.  There is a sense of (here it is again) gratitude for this house that carried me through these last 3 years.  It was far from "stable" as visitors came and went, roommates moved in and out, and it was quite apparent that the stages of mid to late 20s progression was in play for all of us; but it was a great home with countless memories.

Final goodbye to CrackCity!