Three More Days

Three more days. Most of my belongings are in boxes or waiting to be stuffed into a duffle bag. It's strangely calming to have everything you own packed away. For me, stuff makes clutter and that makes me crazy. I think I should have been a monk; minimalism is my friend.

I've spent the past week packing and spending time with friends and family. The question I get asked the most is, "Are you excited?" It's a strange question. Yes, I am excited. Somewhere inside me is excitement. But right now I'm just focused on the task at hand. Get my things moved, get my car situated, pack my coffee pot last minute, patch holes, sweat.

Sometimes I feel like I'm too sentimental. I know I am. I spend far too much time observing my life, as opposed to existing in it. Perhaps it's a writer-thing. Sometimes I think about the plane crashing on my way to California. How exquisitely tragic. Or I think about all the work I have to do when I arrive, unpacking, job finding, friend making. I know that making friends might not seem like work to some, but it is for me. I'm glad I've already got some people I know out there.

Weave's latest issue is finished. You should buy it.

I'm going to get back to packing and such. I will leave you with Ray. He's like jelly, baby.