THE list

Though I usually only look at the lists that I write once (as I am writing them), I continue to make them just the same...

To do before May 31st:

1. find job (!!!!!)
2. buy/ rent on top of car storage thing (I under estimated how much stuff I am going to want to bring)
3. pack up sentimental cant-live-forever-without things, i.e- dad's desk, old photographs, special books, rocking chair, kitchen table, box of journals, various paintings and wall hangings to take to momma's house
4. go through CD's and throw away ones I wil not be taking
5. photoshoot of pregnant Rachel in the 'I love boys' shirt
6. sell more clothes
7. go to norfolk
8. establish indefinite itinerary so that I make sure I get everywhere I want to be
9. dispose of crappy third hand dresser
10. sell mirrors
11. find owners for my boxes of L'occitane testers
12. sit on my back porch
13. go to the river
14. hug my friends and family a whole lot
15. BREATHE!

I know there is more, my constant anxiety is proof enough of having more than 15 things to do.

Only a month left and my excitement is growing just as rapidly as my nerves...

I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another till i drop. This is the night, what it does to you. I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion.

tantrum

After a remarkably dramatic episode of mine last night, I am determined to become more positive about this whole moving thing. After G relayed to me words that I had already known to be true concerning our relationship, I lost control and turned into a little girl, hurrying to pack my flowered suitcase and threatening to run away right then and there. Unfortunately that was not the end of my dastardly charade, and I continued spouting pools of tears and mumbling self depricating "please feel sorry for me" words...

Last night's dramatic display is exactly the kind of thing I would like to avoid while creating this new life for myself. I will also hopefully discontinue my overly romantic notions and ignorance of what is ACTUALLY going on. I am not a crazy person, so why do I so often pretend that I am?

Anyway, I think that despite my creeping anxiety concerning my departure, I have gained a better perspective on the whole thing and last night was reminded once again just why it is so unbelievably important for me to do this.

In other San Fran related news...

-My job search is still reeling, Lauri emailed me today saying that she hadn't forgotten and that she was still trying to help me find something out there.

-I switched cars with my mom today! I am now the proud driver of a 1998 Honda Odyssey Minivan!

This week I will begin to photograph the stuff I want to sell. I just have to get enough motivation to clean my room first...

Paris, Texas

Though only minutely related to my journey to san francisco (it is technically a 'road' movie, after all), I feel  as though I have to write some sort of commentary about the unbelievably gorgeous and romantic Paris, Texas which I finally watched last night. Yes, it was very slow (in fact Graham, a normally patient guy grew restless after an hour of it) but made up for its crawling pace with the painful and romantic conversation between travis and jane through mirrored glass in a strip club.

The movie itself was impossibly beautiful - the colors looked like streaming William Eggleston photographs, and Natassja Kinski is quite possibly the second hottest woman in the world (second only to Penelope Cruz).

I adore road movies; I adore tragic, tortured lover movies. Thus, Paris, Texas was close to perfection...

only one month and eight days

It is April 23rd. April 23rd means exactly one month and eight days until I leave for San Francisco.

Everyday that I wake up I feel more and more anxious, knowing that my departure date is so soon, knowing that I have so much left to do, knowing that I will soon be separated from my mother and g and a few other wonderful people.

And for what reason(s) am I leaving these oh-so-precious people and my familiar Virginia? To start new? To start a completely unfamiliar, terrifying new? It sounds crazier every time  think about it...

I am worried I am not leaving for the right reasons. I think its possible to equate what I am doing with running away. This year has been so dreadfully confusing and impossible- I have been so happy, but I have just as often been so goddamn miserable. I suppose that even if what I am doing can be named 'running away,' is it really so bad if all of the prior mentioned bullshit is what I am escaping from?

San Francisco is 2,940 miles away. That is a lot of miles.