Place has been on my mind lately and in my conversations. The place you live is like a character in your life. For some people it's a key player, for others maybe an extra who just stands quietly in the background. If the suburb we live in were a character in my life, she would be that neighbor who smiles and waves driving by but whose name I never know. And I wouldn't mind trading her in for a more colorful player, perhaps like Seinfeld's Kramer who, on occasion, bursts through the front door with electrifying hair.But it's not easy to figure out. It almost feels like having to commit after glancing at a few glossy head-shots. Can you ever really know a place until you live there awhile? Not to mention that a majority of your cast comes as a package deal with her, and all of those actors are unknowns who bypass the audition process. It's a bit of a risk either way. You may regret not changing your place, or you may regret the new place you choose.I get caught up in living the right life, as though every question in life has only one correct answer. It should be obvious to the casual reader that such a thing doesn't exist, except in my mind. The only way I can see the right life illusion holding would be if I convinced myself that no other theaters or characters even existed, and I can't live in that deep of denial. So I'm toying around with giving up that game and living a life that explores a possible path among infinite others. I don't know how place fits in to that, or how place will pan out. Maybe we'll trade our place character, or maybe I'll simply figure out how to get on a first-name basis with the one I've got.