my theory on goodbyes + the zoom where it happened
i don’t think of last texts i sent to people, i think of last laughs
LULA CAFE, CHICAGO —
i am horrible at goodbyes. like, sob at the doorstep sad and when i was a baby i’d kiss the driveway before heading to india for two months in an act of love for my blue-shingled home, kind of horrible.
that all is fine and well if it weren’t for a recent realization i had, that complicates this emotional trait: i also crave the feeling of being somewhere new and building up a community around me. as much as that can be exhausting, i call it self love. i’ve argued time and time again that happiness in a new city does not boil down to luck, but. simply that you are the reason you have something so beautiful (and so hard) to say goodbye to.
these two facts in mind, of course, i’m at odds with myself. i like the feeling of being new all while hating change. every city i’ve moved to, i day dream of my life in decades. and every city i’ve visited — even if for just a weekend — i day dream of my life in sublets and potential apartment leases. of course, quarantine has both sped up my dreams of being a city-hopping nomad and my craving to park myself in new jersey and surround myself with cut fruit and a fantastic family.
this little imbalance has left me brainstorming new ways to frame leaving and arriving at places. today, fresh off leaving san francisco to move home, i’ve settled on a new theory about goodbyes.
more on this little imbalance later, but first my words + reads:
anyways,
my words: first-time founders are in the thick of an unprecedented accelerator season, so i caught up with a few to understand how things are going.
etc: the last thing michael vega-sanz wanted to do was was join another zoom get-together for entrepreneurs. but the car-sharing company he co-founded with twin brother matthew was in the middle of a pivot, so they joined nextview Ventures’ inaugural remote accelerator program.
“i envisioned an accelerator with awkward happy hours, mass zoom calls,” he said. fast-forward one month into the program, he says it “has been quite the opposite.”
learning lesson: founders disagreed on if the remote format brought more or less vulnerability. while some said zoom rooms forced them to break down barriers, others say the “fire under your butt” of being in person was missing.
also read: my piece on how stanford gsb students are coming together to invest money into their classmates’ startups.
also listen: the latest @equitypod is an espresso shot of qualtrics.
anyways,
temporary moves are a trip for reasons you can imagine, so let me cope by rationalizing my most recent open-ended goodbye.
i believe that goodbyes happen far earlier than the hug and the last look at the apartment. i think goodbyes don’t happen in the 5 minutes until the uber arrives. sure, that last hug is a physical reminder that change awaits — but it isn’t the moment change shows up. in fact, the last time my north beach apartment was the apartment i’ll miss and love was not when boxes filled the living room and bubble wrap was strewn about. it was probably the night we made quarantine mango margaritas or did a zoom party themed on a pasta bracket.
i don’t think of last texts i sent to people, i think of last laughs.
to believe otherwise is to be unrealistic. this is most obvious and devastating when someone passes away unexpectedly, hell, even expectedly. it is felt during heartbreaks.
but let’s not get too morbid on a monday. this theory gives me hope because it takes a little bit of control i thought had with goodbyes, crumples it up into a ball, and throws it out the window. not being aware of a true goodbye is a refreshing thing because it means we have no choice in it.
i’m not saying we shouldn’t clutch onto our loved ones, kiss the driveway farewell or sit on the doorstep until we cry. i’m saying we should clutch, kiss, or sit — and also remember that, quietly in the background, the process of saying goodbye has always been happening.
how’s that for an sf exodus essay,
n