To answer your questions in order:

1. Made it shittier

2. YES, GOD YES, YES, 1000 TIMES.

Let it be known that I blame no one but myself for this. Duke accepted me but was too far away, and DU was hella expensive. Boulder seemed like the obvious choice, but I didn't spend enough time getting a feel for the environment. Normally I'm pretty adaptable - I lived in Saudi Arabia for a year. THINK ABOUT THAT. - but living in the Whitest Place in America as my Uncle calls it, has done nothing but effected me negatively.

Almost, at least. It's made me much more aware of racial issues, and the fact that my experiences are unique in the grand scheme of things.

But the way of living itself is something I don't mesh with. I've been trying to get nerds together for a D&D campaign or a Smash Bros meet-up or SOMETHING that fills that nerdy hole in my heart.

Oh, and it's made me extremely appreciative of my family, which is another positive. I mean, I appreciated them before - but, like, I really appreciate them now, and have a fantastic relationship with my sister, and I would say being in Boulder has attributed to that.

I moved to Portland a week after I graduated school in Naperville, IL. I'm not sure if it was the move or Portland, but I'm certainly learning to become a more open, loving, kind person. I learned that I was very self conscious and needed to let it go and love myself.

I think an even bigger learning experience is coming up however. Tomorrow I'm moving out to Fossil, OR to teach music through AmeriCorps to K-12 grade kids. The town is extremely small and has less than 100 kids K-12. I'm not sure how exactly I'll grow, but it seems inevitable.

Ask me in, like, a month or two? I'll catch my plane to NYC tomorrow, and a couple of days later my adventure in Canada starts. I'm excited but also kinda terrified.

This hits home for me. I was born in Baton Rouge but grew up in Atlanta. Moved back to Louisiana two years ago after my father suddenly passed away. My last years in Atlanta were aimless and destructive. My family was tearing itself apart and I wasn't helping. I was getting in and out of trouble. All my luck had run out in that town. After I buried my dad I decided to start fresh in my hometown. Our hometown. I distanced myself from all the poisonous relationships in Atlanta and found refuge in the family I'd long neglected here. It's unfortunately bittersweet. I like to think I would have done that anyways but my dad forced my hand. I only saw him once since I was a teenager. We never really got a chance to know each other man to man. I almost feel like his ghost walking around this town.

I love it here. My life has become infinitely richer 1000 miles away from all that bad mojo. One day I'd like to move west but for now, I feel like my life has really begun.

1. You just wanted to let us all know that you brought home the prettiest girl, even if just once, from the bar.

I have had two big moves in my life. The first was for college, when I moved at 19 years old to Missoula Montana. The experience on the whole was amazing, but not without its drawbacks, but none of them had to do with Missoula/Montana. Because of the friendships I made there, because of the appreciation for the outdoors it gave me and the life experience (I can pretty well drink most people under a table) I'd not change it.

The other big move was three years ago when I moved to North Carolina from Michigan. I grew up in Michigan and I had zero interest in ever living in the south. I was pretty sure that this wouldn't ever happen. But, my wife applied to residency at Duke as her #1 choice (after consulting with me of course) and got it. It's a wonderful program so I figured, why not?

I love it here, but I really miss my friends and family back home. Not the least of which is mk. It would be SOOO much more convenient for us to live more close together for Hubski purposes. But, we have carved out a pretty kick-ass life for ourselves here and are making some great friends... shoutout to ipreferpi.

I have found that the best cure for missing Michigan and wanting to move back is to visit Michigan. It's a great state, but NC is a far nicer one from a weather standpoint. There's just no way to argue otherwise. Also, NC is much prettier and cleaner -unless you live in Northern Michigan, which I wouldn't. So, I don't regret it and I wouldn't change it.

I tend to idealize places in my mind/memory and then once I re-experience them I'm slapped with the reality of them. I do this with people too. I'll remember all the fond characteristics of a friend/girlfriend only to remember their flaws after we see each other again.

Anyways, I'm excited for you. I'm guessing that I'll be visiting scrimetime in Boston at some point in 2015 and we will all have to go out one night. Good luck pal!

Boston is a great town. I enjoyed living off Mass Ave. between MIT and Harvard back in the mid 2000's. Congrats on getting back there!

I love to travel. Mainly because I get exposed to so many cool new things.. Moving is a lot like traveling, basically like a super extended travelling experience on a deeper level. When moving from Tallahassee to Atlanta for college I was awoken to all that a "big city" had to offer....more culture, more diversity, more public transportation, more places to do things after dark and into the wee hours of the morning. When moving to Atlanta to Boston, I discovered you could do even more things after dark and into the wee hours of the morning, especially if you were in China Town...good times.

Moving to cold climates made me realize that I'm only compatible with the warmer climates for the long haul. External things that you don't have control over, I came to realize, are a huge consideration for laying down your roots. To me cold is pain. To my wife heat is pain. So we met in the middle in moderate North Carolina. And since there are some cool folks in the area (back at you thenewgreen) it's easy to be like the Fonz and make the most of where I am and who I'm with.

I moved around a lot when I was younger and being bounced between parents, but one move was my decision: Chicago, to University.

I'd been living in an extremely small, very conservative, town for most of my life. I had already earned an... interesting... reputation for being both an atheist and a liberal. The reputation was probably more that I was vocal, as sometime during my Sophomore year I found my voice, and I was no longer the quiet kid in class. That didn't have a lot of impact on me from students or teachers that I can tell, but I got some friction from others in the community. Not as much as I could have, because I'm generally a polite person. I didn't have a lot of friends in school, just a very small handful. However, I've been told in the years since by two former teachers that the other students "respected" me. Not something I really comprehend, and probably irrelevant to the story. They "respected" me because I was always brutally honest throughout school, I never lied, I never backed down from my opinion, and I never treated anyone unfairly.

But... I did lie. I lied about something very big. The fact that I'm gay.

For years, Chicago became a sort of promised land for me. I'm not stereotypical or flamboyant, and no one picked up on the fact that I'm gay - no one even suspected (with the exception of my Business teacher, but she had a unique opportunity to figure out my behavior over four years of classes). I wanted to be able to love someone, and not be afraid of the community, or far more importantly: them.

So I focused on Chicago. Almost always with a great sense of ambition and hope. Sometimes it scared me, and I referred to it as a "Leviathan" in my book. But I wanted it. I wanted to be in a place where I could love someone and not be ashamed of it.

I was already in love, though. I met someone my Junior year who completely entranced me. Talking to him made me feel good, it made me feel warm. I had one class every morning (PE), and it was all I looked forward to.

Eventually that started to hurt me. Previous experiences told me that I could never trust anyone. And so, around the start of my Senior year, I started thinking about all the bad things that could happen. I wanted to tell him badly, but I was so scared that he'd hate me that I found suicide to be the better option.

Sometimes there were good fantasies, though. I dreamed of Chicago, and getting to take him there. He's a Bears fan, and I wanted to take him to a game at Soldier Field. I thought I'd find it terribly boring, but I wanted him to have fun. I started to want Chicago in a different way.

I wanted to use Chicago as a metamorphosis. I wanted to tell him that I loved him, and I wanted to take him there, but I also wanted to get far away from him. I knew he was straight, and you can't change someone's sexuality. A deeper, more ashamed, part of me, wanted to tell him and then disappear completely from his life. I figured he'd hate me, and I didn't want to inconvenience him by existing.

So at the end of my Senior year, I organized a trip for 29 people, mostly Accounting III students (seniors and juniors). My friend was the only Sophomore to go, and he and I went alone for the day in Chicago. I picked him up at 4 in the morning, and we took the train up - 250 miles North.

It was one of the best days in my life.

It hadn't been long since the divorce, and I'd never shut down from it. I don't relax, ever. I'm always thinking ahead, trying to understand everything and everyone around me. But when I was in Chicago, with Him, I didn't do any of that.

That night, when we got back, I told him.

And it didn't go too badly. He said it felt like his heart had stopped. But, he's still my friend. We're distant, though that's probably more my fault than his. I still don't understand why he doesn't hate me, and that makes me avoid talking to him on the assumption that he does, and that I bother him.

The following August, I moved to Chicago. I liked it, but... It wasn't the same.

I didn't have the urge to develop any friendships, and I was Alone.

During the first Semester, I made various attempts to talk to my roommates, but found I didn't like them much. I detest drugs, and they smoked - a lot - (what college kids don't, I guess?). I don't drink, for fear of losing control of my mouth, so I didn't socialize. I don't like socializing with new people, because they terrify me.

And so, for the first semester, I reverted to the person I was just after the divorce. I was quiet, fearful, and ashamed for existing.

And then New Years came, and somehow I'd made another fantasy happen. I'd returned home for Christmas, but on December 28th, my Friend and I got on a train and headed to Chicago once again. Except this time it was for an entire week. We spent a week together, and that was never something I'd imagined. On New Years Eve, we went to the Lincoln Park Zoo around 10PM to see the lights, and it was beautiful. Then we made our way (quite coldly) to Navy Pier.

That night is when he started to suggest subtly that I should come out. A few people knew, but it was a secret. He'd already told me that I was his biggest secret (a fact I both relished and felt guilty for). But he repeated something he'd said before: people should just be who they are, and not try to pretend to be something they're not. We watched the fireworks, and then went back to my place.

As we were waiting around on the last day, we had a similar conversation. At the end of it, I rejoined Facebook (I'd been off of the site for months) and came out. It was an extremely odd feeling. I'd spent 19 years keeping it a secret, acting a role that I'd acted so well that I suddenly didn't know who I was anymore. I thought it would be an opportunity for me to discover myself and find out what sort of person I am.

But, I dropped my friend off at his home, and we hugged goodbye. I returned to Chicago a few days later and found it stained.

It wasn't the city that had made me feel that way, it was him. I'd ruined my promised land by soaking it with memories. Every step had a conversation, a small. I couldn't go into 7/11 for a week. While he was there, every morning I'd go and get hot chocolate (he doesn't like coffee) for us before he even woke up (easy, since I'm an early riser). I couldn't go anywhere on campus or in my city and not be stricken by my stupidly potent memories.

I felt hollow, and I recessed once again. I didn't speak to anyone. I'd go weeks without uttering a syllable, only ever speaking briefly in classes and in counseling.

School ended, and even with all that my friend has done to convince me that he does want to keep me as a friend in spite of my feelings for him, I have trouble understanding why he doesn't hate me. So, instead of going home for the summer, I tried to get summer classes. Trouble with the University's accounting office granted me an additional $4,000 worth of debt, summer housing, but no summer classes. At the same time, I got extremely ill. Pain struck me all over the torso, and I'd vomit up everything until I began to vomit bile.

I had no friends, and I had no one to help me. So one day as I thought my appendix was rupturing, I walked the two miles to the hospital. Nothing was wrong with me, they did yet another $4000 worth of tests. They asked, "Have you been under an unusual amount of stress lately?" I didn't think I had.

And so, I was forced to return to the little town I worked so hard to get out of. And here I am, forced to take a year off from school. At times I'm ashamed of just existing. I avoid driving around any time that I may pass him on the road. I don't know why, but that's how it is.

----

The question was "What has moving to a new place done for you?" And I'm not sure I provided a really good answer with that story. I moved to Chicago, and it showed me, basically, that the place you're at isn't the whole story. The place you're in is far less important than the people you're with. I wouldn't take back those trips, but I'm not sure I'd do them the same way.

I'm not old enough to have been an active agent in any of my moves. You're not going to see my confessions here unless I'm being paid by the word, but the bottom line is I've seen three major moves and several smaller changes of scenery. There's now the prospect of moving to university. Naturally I'm not the one making the call on my own acceptance but I can at least choose where I might want to go.

Assuming you're asking for advice on your situation: I think the first thing that needs to be established is that moving will change your life. You've acknowledged that. Other people's posts are evidence. This:

Turns out that lots of places want to hire me for professions I've left behind because I didn't feel like they would take me places, but that is turning out not to be true. I've also been re-cementing friendships via creative outlets.

shows that you're not relinquishing control over your own life. That's good. My most recent move was 5 years ago when I was 12 and thus fell at the beginning of what I'd consider particularly formative years. I can't quite fathom how backpacking around Vietnam brought you closer to spiritual oneness. I can, however, appreciate that some circumstances will offer you opportunity and that the onus is on you to take it. I was disappointed with where I'd moved to — it was a proprietary downsizing, and that can be taken symbolically. The objective minimisation of what I could do (fewer jobs here, worse schooling, fewer friendships, etc.) led to a perceptual minimisation. It's only now — and possibly in light of the fact that there is more personal freedom coming my way — that I'm starting to do something with where I've moved to and the people I've met.

Firstly, nothing I'm doing in this year is going to be lasting, this is more of a stepping stone. I don't like where I'm living; there's not enough here for it to be more than a stepping stone. Nonetheless, I'm happy that I'm using it for a — any purpose — purpose and I wish I'd started sooner.

Your second question is nullified in my instance. I didn't do anything in the moving process and I didn't do anything once the moving was over. In the future, I hope to move into the city. I see the stupidity in my self-fulfilling prophecy of minimisation. I think moving to a city would only foster my rejection of that error.

I couldn't locate Boston on a map and even less do I know what it's really like but I can imagine you're going to feel your life accelerate a bit. There's going to be a lot to take in. You'll even have to familiarise yourself with such minutiae as the commute to work. I think that's good. I don't know the context of your "not having time" discussion, but it may seem that there is a lot of commotion around your tidy plan. You shouldn't let it infect though. You have plenty of time but do not waste it. Arrive and observe your situation and move on from there. You've implied that you're now seeing the possibility of progression in several careers and you're going to choose from those too. There are plenty of factors that decide which job you're going to wind up in. It might be a simple income comparison, or how passionate you are about the work, or whether you're buddy-buddy enough with the boss to bed for a promotion — the point is that it's all just strategy. Map out where you are and where you're going.

While conjecture is a sweet solace, I can't just do it all again and neither can you. That's implied by the very usage of the conditional could — so don't waste time. Cynical inaction is a habit for those with too much life left or those with very little.

Strange that we have much in common with regards to Viet Nam.

Turns out that lots of places want to hire me for professions I've left behind because I didn't feel like they would take me places, but that is turning out not to be true.

I hope that works out for you. Assuming you were teaching English in Vietnam... if you get to know the ex-pat community, I mean the old, old ones, you start to tap into an angry-at-life perspective. There's a better life to be had. You also meet some wonderful, lasting connections. What kind of professions?

Story time.

A man known as Sandy is in his mid-70's. He had been in Vietnam since the end of the war. The reason that he found himself there is that he crashed a car in Australia without insurance, and he decided to flee the country. To my knowledge, he's never gone back to Australia. To this day, the strangest thing I've heard is fluent Vietnamese being screened through an Australian accent. I met him at a pizza place, the only pizza place in the city, as he was a daily regular. He would sit down, read a book, and have a couple beers. His being married to a Vietnamese woman allowed him, presumably, to buy some land and perhaps a few businesses. I learned something important from this man.

Boston, a city that I love and am glad to be moving back to, especially because I still have a network of friends there.

This is of key importance. I moved to Denver with nothing but 2 grand and a car. I have no family here (except a great uncle in Loveland), and no real reason to stay. To make up for that great lack, I've done essentially what Sandy did - find a central place to be a regular at, meet people, and generally depend on new networking to provide a livable lifestyle. When I first got here, I knew if I got evicted or something went wrong I'd be either out on the streets or driving back to Oregon. It doesn't matter where you are; a network of people that recognize you is absolutely priceless.