...where they cut down all the trees and name streets after them...

~Alfred E. Neuman

In the next few weeks, I'll be moving out to the suburbs. I'm doing a lot of self-talk, trying to combat this prejudice I have against any zip code outside the city boundaries: Neither of my parents grew up in the city, and they turned out ok!

If I'm being honest, I have to acknowledge my self-satisfaction over having grown up in such a racially and economically diverse neighborhood (my bike was stolen a bunch of times! our house was broken into! we went to Cincinnati Public Schools!) I'm proud of having worn hand-me-downs, of not having cable, of growing up in a modest house. My values were shaped in that neighborhood, and I don't know how they would be the same had I been raised somewhere else.

And so the 'burbs. Thirty minutes--not five--from downtown. We'll see how my need for chaos (stacked papers, three pairs of shoes surrounding my chair at this very moment, two empty glasses) translates outside of the city. I think it will be good for my writing and focus (besides, there are nearby Starbucks!) though my commute to the library won't be fun.

On an unrelated note, I am psyched for the new movie with James Franco, 127 Hours. Based on a true story, it comes out in Cincy next Friday. The second song in the trailer is Funeral, by the awesomely named band, Band of Horses.