So, I moved to Seattle. All the good-byes and the lasts and the crying has culminated into me being here, after an early and restless flight. I’ll stay with a friend tonight and sign my lease tomorrow, when, winter gods willing, my Minnesota things will arrive and we will fill the unfamiliar with familiar, the empty spaces with the objects that make this permanent. Or, at least, that would make it another pain in the ass bundle of logistics and angst to shuffle back home.
All of this sounds very dramatic. And, I’ll admit, in my head it is. I’m a sucker for a good wallow from a good tragedy. That the tragedy is mine gives me more to sink into literarily. But it’s also just plain hard. I mourned and exaulted over this move for three months, and I will continue to do so in the months to come. The most important thing is that I wanted this, I longed for something new, I felt my restless feet getting itchy and I leaped because I knew I could. That’s not to sound presumptuous, or to give myself an ego stroke. It’s just that I’ve moved before, I’ve dealt with adversity before, and I felt that it was worth the dealing and that I had the grit to deal again.
I know New Year’s resolutions are THE WORST for a lot of people. I’m doing a little eye-rolling writing this, too, but I have to put it here for posterity. My resolution this year is to squeeze all the joy and novelty and fear and angst and jubilance out of this opportunity that I have. Missing home is a natural part of it, but I can’t and won’t let it be an all-consuming part, or a crutch for why, hypothetically, I haven’t embraced the new that I have. Happy 2015, and thank you so much for reading this little slice of my life in 2014. Thank you for coming with me. I hope you’ll stay. I can’t promise all teh happy endings, but I can promise heavy snark laid over pragmitism, with a tiny bit of the idealist thrown in for good measure. Basically, I just wanna make you laugh.