Wednesday, August 9, 2006

Your powers of deduction, I imagine, have been honed to a dangerous sharpness from perceiving the sheer amount of not talking we’ve been doing this past week. My hope, my secret and uncertain hope, is we’ll reclaim some consistency after I move, though the road to Charlotte promises to be longer than even Mapquest would dare predict. It’s a strange phenomenon where the days are countable, yet the destination, the start date, and all those other touchstones shift in and out of reality.

There’s that moment of initial euphoria when you begin purchasing lawn ornaments for the grass on the other side of the fence, but then you discover your side still claims you. It’s what’s inherent in the idea of moving, I guess: a motion equal parts liberating and violent, something through which you must wade. Interpersonal connections? Minefield. Landlord? Doing that thing where his hearing and comprehension of English suddenly go south. Furniture? Relo needs to make sure the papasan is papagone by next Wednesday.

But it’s true what they say about the things most worthwhile. I couldn’t ask for more. These are the majors. Tons of analysis. Peers fun and demanding. Geography that begs for roots, you know? All synapses are firing. I’m stoked. I’m free.