"rut ro"

Last week my roommate announced that she's ready to move out of our apartment. She's lived in our third floor walk-up for six years (four years before I got there). The slanted floorboards and peeled white moldings I find charming drive her crazy. She sees herself in a studio in Brooklyn. She's sure the change in scenery will drop her back in love with the city.

A few days later, over strong happy hour drinks, a close friend explained that she's considering a complete career overhaul. She's worried the industry she's in wont satisfy her in the long term- and her boss is a jerk.

As much as I wagged my head in support as both listed the pros of switching things up, I'll admit- I don't entirely get it. Yes, our apartment is small, closet-less and inexplicably dusty even after you dust, but it's cozy and cheap for the neighborhood. And yes, my friend's boss sucks, but honestly speaking, sane New York bosses are about as ubiquitous as female cab drivers (once and she had a moustache).

Why fix what ain't really broke?

When I relayed these updates to another friend (who just switched cities and job) she reminded me, "Well, Vanessa, you're not exactly big on change."

I got a little defensive. I'm big on change, or at least I'm sure I'm not small on it. I'm certainly not one of those boring people who just gets comfortable and settles- at least, I don't think I am. I guess it's just been a while since I felt the urgency to make any significant adjustments.

Nervous, I quickly scanned my apartment for evidence of complacency. I moved in two years ago and I still have plastic drawers instead of a real dresser. My head spun into a mini-tizzy. Do I need a change in scenery? Do I need a new job? Wait a hot second, did I fall into a rut when nobody was looking?

So, I overreacted. But I could use the break for evaluation.

When I moved to the city a couple years ago I was the queen of change and risk. New city, job, apartment, roommates, friends, singledom, bangs- I was scared to let anything stay the same.

A couple thousand subway rides later, I may have gotten a little comfortable. As good as that feels I'm a firm believer that your twenties (or at least my twenties) is hardly the time to settle into anything. I don't need a new apartment, but it could use a face lift- and furniture that didn't come from Kmart's dorm collection on clearance. I don't need a new job tomorrow, but I shouldn't avoid the sometimes scary question, "Where am I headed?"

Lucky for me, I live in a city that won't let you suffer in (or enjoy) any rut for too long. I'm surrounded by the antsiest folks on the planet- commitment-phobes and workaholics who consider "settle" a very bad word.

Right now, that's perfect for me- not that I'll never settle down. I look forward to the security and satisfaction that comes from picking the right place, person and job. But not now or yet- a least a hundred more mini-crises (and blog posts) to go before I figure that out.