Today is Pioneer Day, which marks that I have officially lived in Salt Lake City for two whole years. Two years ago today, my mom and I finished moving in all my stuff, had the cable and internet set up, and watched the (slightly racist) Pioneer Day parade.
It's been a strange trip, these last two years. My grandfather died, my mentor died, my lizard died. I swore at Mormons, I went to football games, I ate Jello. I watched cars slide down the street when it was covered in ice, and I watched a lightning-infused snowstorm. I enjoyed walking home from school on nice days, and I survived the trip home when the weather was bad.
I survived paying taxes, power outages, and the Salt Lake County DMV. I spent a lot of time in the university's anthropology department, too much time in the library, and not enough time in the gym. I made a lot of food, ate a lot of food, and managed to avoid setting my apartment on fire.
I'm not sure what I was expecting when I moved here. I picked Utah because I had friends here, and it was somewhere that wasn't where I was. I guess that's what made it a good thing- I didn't expect anything of this place. I'd been in Utah once, for the Salt Lake Olympics. I didn't know what it looked like, what living here was like. I had no set expectations.
Am I always happy here? No, of course not. You'd be hard-pressed to find someone who is always happy, regardless of where they are. But moving to Salt Lake has made me an adult, a real one, because I can cope when things are less-than-perfect. I can solve my problems for myself, and I feel like that is the biggest thing moving here has given me.
This isn't a long post, because it's easier to write witty one-liners that sum up my experiences than try to write a memoir. The summary of this, I guess, is that I've had a good two years in Salt Lake. And I have every intention of staying here.
