always my way my way my way my way my way

No I’m not that selfish. I’m listening to The Good Life and those were the lyrics.

In one week: Moving to Minnesota via new car with Danielle and Turtle. Please wish us grace in this transition.

I dislike ipods very much, mine always seems to be corrupted. Maybe I am just missing something.

Haven’t gotten too emotional about the move…yet. Perhaps when our house, which isn’t ours for much longer, is filled with boxes and nothing on the walls, the paint that was painted left for the next homeowner, the new kitchen counters and new kitchen floor left without more than a couple months use by us, the trees in the background will stay the same but we won’t be around. It is sad.

What is important in life? Is it a house? Is it a patio? A certain shade of orange that you choose to hang as curtains? Is it a phone call that has one of the most familiar and loved voices on the other end wanting to talk to you? Is it a new car? Is it a handful of favorite songs? Is it a dream you have? Is it planning goals? Is it your favorite time of year? Is it rain or shine?

As we move on, move forward, drive away from this house that we bought no more than 7 months ago, we’re leaving 3 stories of something we may think helps to define us. Does it? I always sort of defined myself by my hometown, the house I grew up in, the look of the backyard even, from an old bedroom window. The sound of the train as it comes and goes just blocks away. Being able to pass by certain things – a high school, a previous place of employment, a house that a good friend grew up in, a college, restaurants and bars where I drank and ate with friends.

Now that we will move away from here, I often question why we came back. We did used to live here, in West Chester. It’s where Danielle and I met, fell in love, began to create memories. It’s where we grew up in many ways and figured out how to make choices and learned from mistakes. It’s where I walked the uneven sidewalks many many times under the influence, and searched for myself in the nighttime of familiar territory. Is that what brought us back? Familiar roads, memories we wanted to get back, a more carefree time when we had less responsibility, less decisions, less stuff. For me, college was often an open road where I soared down, sometimes driving at full speed, sometimes letting this person or that person take the wheel, sometimes too indecisive to know what street to turn onto next, or too drunk to decipher between where I was, where I was supposed to be, and where I wanted to be.

We moved back here to get a fresh start? How can we do that when there’s not much that is fresh here for us. It is used, stomped on, memorized even. I guess we wanted to make it ours, for real this time, because back then we were never officially “together.” There are many wonderful things about moving here, except that it’s missing much of what we’re looking for in a place to live: diversity, younger crowd (not just 21 year olds), higher lgbt population, walking distance to lots of stuff, a CITY.

So we’ll be off next week. One week from today. We’ll drive and then maybe it’ll begin to feel real. We’ll be in temporary housing and then we’ll find a place to live. We’ll continue to live our lives the best that we can, not much different than any other person. I’ll look for teaching jobs, I’d love to write as well and flourish in some way with that, even if it’s just keeping up with a journal or blog. I’d like to get away from FB more and out into the world, have more at my fingertips, more yoga choices, a different way of life, a fresh place where I can meet someone and they have NO idea who I am, and I get to decide how to be again and again in each conversation, each new encounter.

I once wrote, and I think this was it:

I am change. I am like the ocean, always changing. If you don’t like change, you will hate me. I love me.