intermittent powerlessness

Looking for a place to live is a lot like dating

Dear friend —

Picking a place to live is tough. It’s impossible to know what you won’t like until you’re already living there.

The not knowing, when you’re young, can be explained by lack of life experience. When I left Los Angeles to go to a college in Indiana, I thought: Changing seasons — nice! Tiny college town — cute! Frat parties — fun! Turns out, what are commonly referred to as the four seasons are in reality just two seasons — freezing cold and humid swelter — with three-day reprieves of bearable weather in between. Tiny college town equals sticking out as one of five Asian people in the whole place (“You speak English really well!”), and frat parties equals binge drinking to make bearable the fact that there’s literally nothing else to do and no one new to meet.

So when I returned to L.A., I didn’t leave again for a long, long time. Year-round nice weather, a diverse population, endless new things to do — what could beat that? 

It wasn’t until the coronavirus quarantine arrived and the city shut down that I started to wonder — is it possible there are other warm, diverse, and interesting places where I might live happily? Other places where housing costs aren’t so high?

So last June, I got rid of my stuff and became a nomad to find out. First stop: Tucson. I liked this cute liberal-leaning Arizona town overall! But there was a problem, aside from the massive wildfire and spiking coronavirus infection rates: single digit humidity levels. The weather was dry to the point that my eyes felt like they were desiccating. Apparently, dry eyes that feel like sandpaper are a serious problem for a lot of Arizonans, I discovered belatedly. In my case it was probably exacerbated by the fact I got Lasik a couple years ago.

I started running my humidifier, but my eyes still felt uncomfortable when I went outside. Then I had a dream about going blind! 

So to my “warm, diverse, interesting” list, I added a fourth must-have: “Not so dry as to make it painful to have eyes.”

I left Tucson and went to Lake Arrowhead. Maybe I would like mountain living — despite the raging wildfire nearby and growing pandemic! But I quickly found out I’m too used to city amenities to live comfortably in a place like this. I could take amazing walks among gorgeous trees right out the front door, but I had to drive a ways just to buy a snack. Grubhub did not deliver. Restaurant options were limited. The nearest Thai restaurant was an hour’s drive away. Korean food was nonexistent!

So I added a fifth item: “Must have bibimbap options nearby.”

I left the mountains for wine country and landed in Temecula, a city of about 100,000 people with a suburban feel. Humidity levels: fine! Korean food: available! Yes, we had to be ready for fire evacuation at all times, and yes, COVID-19 cases were going up again, but that seemed to be true of everywhere, at this point. I went horseback riding and hot air ballooning. I fed goats at a petting zoo and ate chocolate-covered cashews from the attached chocolaterie. 

But this place came with a new, unexpected problem: The electricity kept going out.

The first time it happened, I thought it was a fluke — but then Sara Marchant, a writer who lives near by, told me via Twitter that intermittent powerlessness is the norm: “Generators and bottled water are necessities ‘round these parts,” she wrote.

Why don’t people tell you these things before you up and move to a place? One night, SoCal Edison preemptively cut the power — the Santa Anas were blowing at 70 mph, and the utility wanted to prevent fires due to downed lines. I discovered this around 5 in the morning, when I woke up shivering because the heater was out. There was no running water either — that was powered by an electric pump. My phone battery was at 19%. My porch was littered with fallen branches. Wind howled through the trees. I checked SoCal Edison’s website — and found out the power wasn’t expected to come back on for two days! 

The powerlessness forced me out of my little cottage. I spent most of that day in a coworking space, masked in a corner of my own. Four days later, though, I woke up feeling fluey. I panicked! All the COVID-19 testing centers near me were booked up for days! I drove all the way to Huntington Beach for a same-day test — a 3-hour round trip. I returned to Temecula exhausted, anxious, and discombobulated from the trip.

And the power was out again.

That was it for me with Temecula — more specifically with the Dorland Mountain Arts Colony, where I was staying for a writing residency. My cabin was cute and all, but I need electricity. And water. And heat. Without those, writing doesn’t happen for me.

To my list, I added: “Must have reliable utilities.” 

Looking for a place to live is a lot like dating, I’m discovering. As a tween, you think, oh, I just want a boyfriend who’s cute and nice! Then your list of must-haves starts growing as you actually start going out with guys, lengthening with requirements you never thought you’d need to explicitly state: Must not drink an entire liter bottle of sake by himself during first date. Must have interests beyond watching YouTube videos. Must ask questions sometimes instead of only talking about himself. Must not litter with impunity. Must not regularly show up 45 minutes late. Must not be racist. Must not be obsessed with werewolves. 

Am I too picky? Am I just a constitutionally dissatisfied person, impossible to please? I’d like to think that the things I want from life are fairly reasonable and low-key, yet it’s true that I’ve yet to find a place to live — aside from L.A. — that satisfies me.

That third Temecula power outage happened Monday night. By Tuesday, I’d wrangled my way out of the Dorland contract and hightailed it to an Airbnb in Long Beach — which means I’ve returned, already, to the Greater Los Angeles metropolitan area. Long Beach does feel different from L.A. proper though. I’m looking forward to exploring it. And in a few weeks, I’ll be leaving California again.

Have recommendations as to where I should try living in 2021? Send me advice.

Happy new year —

Love,

Siel

P.S. Three links you might enjoy: 

• How to yoga during quarantine: I’m a fan of Adriene

• How to break up with mom: Happy holidays and much love to all of you who, like me, are estranged from their mother

• How to sleep: My sis the neurologist was interviewed by NPR.

P.P.S. What else I’ve been reading lately: Luster by Raven Leilani, Where the Crawdads Sing by Delia Owens, and John Kennedy Toole’s A Confederacy of Dunces.