Why?
...enh, because.
The decision came to me in late June. I was sitting with my friend Michael, discussing the hellishly early call time I had for work the following morning and whether or not I should attend the 20th Anniversary of Broadway Bares. Amidst our conversation, my friend, Tarah responded to a text message I had sent 2 hours prior. It had merely read, "September."
"Ur Coming! !!!!!!! :-) (x9)" she digitally exclaimed in a shorthand that, I assure you, is indicative of her entire persona.
"... moving ;)" I replied
*SEND* spasm
"Did you just get electrocuted?" Michael queried, with cautious befuddlement.
"No... I'm moving to L. A."
"What? When were you going to tell me? When!?"
"I just did. September... I'm going to Bares with you guys tonight."
It was a very specific decision. Of course there was, currently is, and will probably continue to be doubt, fear, and an ever-looming sense of, "really?" orbiting it. However, all of that only serves to further solidify my resolve. I have mentally prepared myself, discussed with all parties concerned, made farewell visits, and have even perused various craigslist notices for housing and cars. That's all well and good, but the fact remains my room still appears (according to my ex) to be inhabited by a meth addict. For the uninformed/inexperienced, that means it's messy. Absurdly so. I always chuckle to myself when people apologize for the state their living quarters.
It's not as if I'm a "hoarder" (or whatever they're called on that show my friends always reference). On the contrary, I have actually kept my possessions to an impressive minimum. The issue is the age-old problem of not having put things away once I've finished with them. I always know where everything is, in at least a general sense. Every once in a while, I even "catch the spirit" and go on a cleaning bender that lasts for days. Not because I have so much to go through, I just do it in minute detail. I keep every pay stub and receipt and if they do not have a specific place to go, then they slowly begin migrating from the desktop, to the floors, the kitchen counters... I think I even have a few on top of my fridge. One can imagine where my clothes end up.
I feel like Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout. Again, it's not because of quantity, but more of a ticking time-bomb situation. If I don't get my rear in gear soon, I'm going to be hurting when it comes time to move and my landlords are wondering how they are going to sell prospective tenants a war-zone.
Naturally, with all of this self-imposed responsibility over my head, I felt this would be a most appropriate time to begin a new blog. I'm tired of facebook, the video games on my phone make my arms stiff, and I've watched all of the current episodes of my favorite TV shows. I suppose I could also go to bed, but I'm not tired, and it's hot.
When I say hot, I mean hhhhhhhot. New England temperatures have hit record highs and the rising moisture only seems to fall back to the earth every half-day in 10-minute, drenching intervals. The worst part is that I have no air-conditioning. I find this sort of climate paralyzing. The same with New England winters. There have been minimal days of happy medium. I even tried to purchase an AC unit yesterday, only to find that my basement dwelling is not conducive to any sort of ventilation. The window is my only source of daylight and has bars installed. Instead, I purchased one of those fancy "blade-less" fans instead... Expensive.
If I start cleaning now, I'll probably find that receipt just in time to catch my flight... In August.
-G
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