by depressed nomad
I recently moved from New York to Dallas. A lot of my New York friends asked why? A friend in Dallas said, “don’t do it.” I moved anyway as I was poor, lived above a noisy bar, had two roommates, and hated my job, the cold, the subway, and the perpetual anxious sweat that coated my body.
I arrived at DFW and took an Uber into the city to begin my new life. As we headed to my corporate housing, I became very confused. It seemed we never left the sprawl that surrounded the airport. I quickly came to realize Dallas is, in fact, all sprawl, and to this day, it feels like I have never left DFW. Dallas is a sweltering airport I cannot leave.
First of all, every weird airport chain that one would assume couldn’t survive in any local economy has found a home in Dallas. Secondly, much like the company you find yourself surrounded by at the airport, most people here are utterly redundant. Conversations are bland and mostly consist of why I left New York. Like in an airport, most people are either trying to GTFO or are somehow happy to be here, living in a somewhat more affordable, non-recycling, white-washed version of LA.
You won’t be surprised by the politics here, so I won’t delve too deep into it. Expats are sane-ish (albeit New York or SF rejects), most are “economically conservative” apathetic white people, and some are out-and-out creeps who think racism isn’t a thing and women really are less deserving of equal pay. All these types of people are, more often than not, proud of their politics.
Quality of life in terms of bang for your buck is much higher in Dallas (fuck yes, I’m talking about in-unit washers and dryers). But how should we really be defining quality? Yes, I feel cleaner, and my city-induced bronchial cough seems to have disappeared. But, I still have the unnerving need to do massive quantities of drugs as a measure to survive my insurmountable boredom. And the energy and lack of inspiration due to a complete absence of anything aesthetically pleasing, unique, or authentic is life-sucking.
What to do? I don’t have an answer yet (your suggestions are welcome), but until I do, I’m counting the days until my health insurance kicks in to get my Xanax refilled.
XOXO