"If you loved me, you'd update your blog."

...was the message I got on Facebook today from not one but two friends. So okay, okay.

I'm temping in a financial firm, doing almost exactly the same things I did in my last two jobs. The more things change, the more they stay the same. I am now firmly convinced that I would rather make no money than ever hear the words, "We need to put together a presentation deck for the year-over-year cost analysis recap meeting," ever again. But it's a paycheck, and the job is within walking distance, so that's a very nice perk. Still. I'm interviewing again tomorrow for my dream job here. Offer sacrifices to the God of Theatrical Jobs for me, will you?

I'm starting to get a little restless. Once the apartment was put together, I really wanted to get out and explore the city, check out the local restaurants and bars, hang out at the beaches, etc. But it's hard to do that when you have no car and your boyfriend works all day. We're going out for his birthday dinner tomorrow night, to a local gastropub which makes its own charcuterie and specializes in craft beers. I know, it has "Jenny" written all over it. But so far as I can tell, he has no restaurant preferences. When I told him where we were going, he said, "How do you know this stuff? You just moved here." To which I replied, "How do you NOT know this stuff? You've been living here for two years!" Which is not meant to be a criticism--people have different spending priorities, and I'll be the first to admit that my restaurant/going out expenditures often make mere mortals hyperventilate. But it's a little hard to adjust my sightlines from New York to...the rest of America. (To which you will say, "Didn't we do this once already? Did you not learn your lesson last time?" To which I will say, "I'll be able to spend Christmas by the pool here. So there.")

Quite a few of the things I really loved about New York are missing here. There, it was considered normal to go out every night of the week, for men to own multiple pairs of $200 designer jeans, to not have cable, to not have a car, to be able to talk intelligently about current world affairs. Here, you're considered dressed up if you wear an unwrinkled polo shirt. No one my age seems to go out more than once a week, max, and my walking less than a mile to work has already earned me more than one "Wait, you WALKED? Where's your car?" (Okay, rant over.)

That being said, the weather here really is spectacular, everyone's much friendlier and more laidback than in New York, and no one (even in finance) works past 5. And I can grow basil and tomatoes on my deck year-round. I will just have to learn not to grit my teeth when I see 40- and 50-year-old men wearing baseball caps and Tevas with socks. But I'll be damned if I give up hanging out in gastropubs and wine bars. (Grin.) Now that I have a job, I hope to start frequenting some of the places I've been reading about--even if I have to take the bus there. I want to go OUT. A LOT. See, that's me. I'd rather spend my money eating good food in interesting places than own a car. I know, I'm weird.