On Love and What’s Next?

In the next few months I could be moving out of state, or just moving down the road.  I could take a job in Chicago, or find something stable here in Dayton.  There is absolutely no script for whatever happens next.  This doesn’t make a lot of sense, really, because I am everyone’s favorite cruise-directing, list-making, plan-demanding, family-loving, friend-following, safe-living, creature of habit, girl.  I will travel about as far as a plane will take me, but generally only as long as it will take me back home.  I love going out and trying new things, but only if we’re going to Trolley Stop afterwards.

I told a good friend of mine today that I was moving (to nowhere in particular really), because I didn’t know where I would be in the next few months, and I wanted my house to be in the good hands of my brother.  I was surprised, and oh so terribly grateful, that the first thing she asked was “Are you okay?”  ‘Cause let’s all be honest here and take a minute to recognize that hell no, I am not okay.  It’s terrifying not to know what’s next.  It’s even more terrifying when you’re someone who has extreme anxiety when they don’t know what’s for dinner, let alone where they will be living/working/hanging out in the coming months.

But I do know that I will be okay, because I have people like her to make sure.  So since I’m so good at lists I’ll make the best one I can:
–I know that in six months I’ll be standing up while my best friend marries the love of his life, in some god damn gorgeous heels. (Note: I did not say anything about walking)
–I know that in five months I’ll be turning 30.
–I know that in four months I’ll be handed my third, and my most favorite, degree.
–I know that in three months (Mother Nature willing) I’ll be floating on the river in my kayak.
–I know that in two months I’ll be exploring Havana with my favorite muppet of a man.
–And I know that in one month I’ll be moving my pillow into the room next to Juliet’s.

Those are the only things I can say for certain.

Oh wait, that and I have a freaking amazing sister that is willing to let Bernie and me crash her home while I try to decide what to do, despite the fact that her home is already brimming with 5 people and a dog.
I have a pretty cool brother that only requires I paint his future bedroom “not pink” and will treat my house like the video-game castle it’s always dreamed of being.
I have amazing friends that offer part-time bed space, 900 square foot attics, whiskey, and “vacation” whenever I need it (I’m looking at you Val).
I have parents who, despite being terrified of their daughter moving more than an inch further from her childhood bedroom, scope out the job market and send me any and all jobs that they thinks I might like, at any and all locations (within reason).
I have a boyfriend who tells me, whenever I need to hear it, “We can do anything for a year!”
And I have a whole gaggle of people who encourage me each and every day to think about “what’s next”.

 

 

So THAT ridiculously cheesy, silly, and pointless gobble-dee-gook out of the way.  Please know that for the next month you can find me in the following places:

–In a pile of moving boxes
–In a sea of tears because I found something that is somehow tangential to living with Joshua.
–In a bottle of whiskey.
–In denial.

Also, please know that I will be keeping a running list of things that I am giving away and/or selling on a blog post.  I’m pretty much the most stylish and adorable human slash home decorator too so you know I have some good shit.

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