Thursday, July 05, 2007

The Trek Begins...Or: "What Fits in a Civic?"

I am beginning to pack my things and prep myself for the long haul out to school.

The good news: I have a place. Tentatively. And roommates. And The Powers That Be have not yet called to let me know they're just playing a terrifically cruel practical joke on me, which is nice.

The bad news: I'm not real good with change. I don't know what or how much of what I am actually bringing. Or when I'm leaving. I do have a vague idea of how I'm getting there, which is nice.

I've been spending a good deal of time contemplating the upcoming year, and as a result have subjected my roommates-to-be to a really inappropriate number of moments of unadulterated honesty, seasoned with a spice of law-school induced psychosis. Thus, I find sentences like "Its really important to me that my roommates & I can be social together, because I don't want to just cry alone in my room all the time," springing from my lips utterly unbidden.

Hi, I have problem with verbally vomiting all over a conversation. Sorry, guys.

I suspect all this unannounced emotional vulnerability is just a symptom of my distaste for change. We all know to change the things that aren't good- but I have an identity here. I'm good at what I do. People like me. There's a boy I have fabulous dinners with, job(s) I'm consistently successful in, friends whose company I delight in, running paths I know...And yet, I'm off to live in the snow and feel badly about myself for the next 3 years, minimum, only to emerge an entirely different person- one who is significantly less fun.

While I'm still excited about the Big Move, the trepidation of starting over is a bit panic inducing at times. I've been trying to spend more time with The Boy& the family, but even these moments are bittersweet when they are tinged with our awareness that there's only a limited number of them left. I've developed the sickening habit of numbering off my weekends, as though I'm going not to Indiana, but to the moon, or the Peace Corps, or Bakersfield, or somewhere else utterly cut off from humanity.

On the flip side: I'm meaner than I look, and pretty self-absorbed, so there's a good chance I'll get through school unscathed.

My boss told me I was "disarmingly sweet & witty, yet surprisingly vicious." I think this will serve me well. Also, since she also told me it was a good thing I wasn't too good-looking, I feel I can take her compliments seriously. At any rate, I make pretty amazing lasagna, so I won't be friendless for long.


All rights reserved to my snotty and generally self-deprecating writing. And if your comments bother me, I'll delete them. That's right, pumpkin.
...How dreary—to be—Somebody!
How public—like a Frog—
To tell one's name—the livelong June—
To an admiring Bog!
-- Emily Dickinson