Come on and cry, cry baby
Today marks the "less than one month" point in our countdown to Palau. Terrifying. I should probably be packing or something right now, but I'm not. Inertia will be the death of me.
There's been a lot of crying lately. I fear my new adventure has rendered me an emotional cripple. Or, perhaps just a tender soul with a penchant for hyperbole. Potato, po-tah-to.
In the last week, I have cried about my cat, my apartment, my computer, my car, my friends, the laundry and hair products, to name but a few. This is seriously out of control.
This is from a person who, at one point in her life, wouldn't cry for anything, even if you tied her to a chair and made her watch long distance commercials on an uninterrupted loop for 36 hours straight. A person who wouldn't cry even if you killed a puppy and fed it to an unsuspecting blindfolded vegan. I was hardcore is what I'm saying. Now, I cry over everything.
My mother tells me she loves the side of me that cries over leaving my cat behind. Translation: She finds my particular brand of crazy endearing. She should know, she made it.
It's amazing to me how much has gotten done in a short time, though. The details, I mean. Let this be a lesson to all ye who fantasize about walking away from your life: All of the details of your life can be fairly easily wrapped up in a matter of weeks, if not mere days, and then you will be but a memory. Let this also be a lesson to all ye who think you are the most important person in the world and your contribution to society by virtue of your mere existence is undeniable and unmatched: All of the details of your life can be fairly easily wrapped up in a matter of weeks, if not mere days, and then you will be but a memory.
I think the wrapping up of details - finding a home for my cat, getting rid of my car, renting my apartment - has actually made me sadder. It's like the details serve to distract you from the real thing that makes leaving hard - the people you leave behind. Maybe that's why I haven't packed yet. I need that hanging over my head to distract me from the task of bidding farewell to everyone. Baltimore, of all the cities in which I have lived, has the distinction of housing the single greatest group of friends I have ever had. The closest for sure. They're even closer than my "pack" in college or law school - mainly since these people hang out with me because they like me, not because we got assigned to the same dorm or we both have Contracts class at 9am.
It's boggling, really, finally to have found my urban family and then to leave them. So boggling that I can't deal with it. That's why I'm not packing.
There's been a lot of crying lately. I fear my new adventure has rendered me an emotional cripple. Or, perhaps just a tender soul with a penchant for hyperbole. Potato, po-tah-to.
In the last week, I have cried about my cat, my apartment, my computer, my car, my friends, the laundry and hair products, to name but a few. This is seriously out of control.
This is from a person who, at one point in her life, wouldn't cry for anything, even if you tied her to a chair and made her watch long distance commercials on an uninterrupted loop for 36 hours straight. A person who wouldn't cry even if you killed a puppy and fed it to an unsuspecting blindfolded vegan. I was hardcore is what I'm saying. Now, I cry over everything.
My mother tells me she loves the side of me that cries over leaving my cat behind. Translation: She finds my particular brand of crazy endearing. She should know, she made it.
It's amazing to me how much has gotten done in a short time, though. The details, I mean. Let this be a lesson to all ye who fantasize about walking away from your life: All of the details of your life can be fairly easily wrapped up in a matter of weeks, if not mere days, and then you will be but a memory. Let this also be a lesson to all ye who think you are the most important person in the world and your contribution to society by virtue of your mere existence is undeniable and unmatched: All of the details of your life can be fairly easily wrapped up in a matter of weeks, if not mere days, and then you will be but a memory.
I think the wrapping up of details - finding a home for my cat, getting rid of my car, renting my apartment - has actually made me sadder. It's like the details serve to distract you from the real thing that makes leaving hard - the people you leave behind. Maybe that's why I haven't packed yet. I need that hanging over my head to distract me from the task of bidding farewell to everyone. Baltimore, of all the cities in which I have lived, has the distinction of housing the single greatest group of friends I have ever had. The closest for sure. They're even closer than my "pack" in college or law school - mainly since these people hang out with me because they like me, not because we got assigned to the same dorm or we both have Contracts class at 9am.
It's boggling, really, finally to have found my urban family and then to leave them. So boggling that I can't deal with it. That's why I'm not packing.
posted by E. at
11:12 AM
1 Comments:
the sooner you pack, the sooner you can get into saturating in the goodbye revelry. just sayin'.
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