So I Moved

So, I moved. I left New York. You might have realized from Georgette’s super nice goodbye post, or you may not have, because you don’t really care about my life. Totally understandable.

This is me and a friend on moving day. We like wearing white shirts that much our teethy smiles.

This is me and a friend on moving day. We like wearing white shirts that much our teethy smiles.

I was going to write a “goodbye to new york” post, about staying and leaving, tall buildings, good friends, bad winters, etc. I tried, I really did. But I just can’t do it. Maybe I’m not ready to say goodbye to New York, but mostly, I think I’m not ready to say goodbye to anywhere. I have no idea what I’m doing with my life. (Even after college! Weren’t they supposed to teach me that? Shall I sue?)

I’m in Utah now. You’ve heard of it. Mormons? Skiing? Sundance? Republicans?

Maybe I’ll write about New York after moving to LA and then moving back and then becoming a super famous writer and then hanging out with a bunch of famous people, and then looking back at myself as a youngster who didn’t know shit. Yes, maybe I’ll do that.

But what I will do today is write a bit about moving. Here are a few observations:

-How do I have so many things? Like that cool little jar I have for my coins—where did it come from? How do I get it where I’m going? What do I need it for? Why don’t I want to get rid of it? Help!

-What’s with the weight limit on suitcases, Delta? My life weighs more than 50 pounds, don’t judge.

-Where are all the food trucks out here? Are you telling me if I want take out I have to go inside a store and get it?

-Ok, If I shift my jeans around I guess my life doesn’t weigh more than 50 pounds.

-There’s a lot of space west of the Mississippi. It’s nice. I feel like I can breathe out here. Also like something might come rocketing out of this big huge sky and smash into me.

-Gas is so cheap right now, it’s great. (Ok, so that one’s not about moving, but I’m just sort of stream-of-consciousness-ing, let it happen.)

-I’ve never lived in a red state before. I feel a little bit like an explorer entering foreign territory.

-How long does it usually take to start living someplace rather than just kind of “staying” there? A month? A year? Or is living the same thing as staying? Or do I think too much?

-Where do I put all my books? Why are books so heavy? Why does my kindle always die? Reading is hard I should stop.

So those are my moving observations at the moment. Utah’s pretty fun so far, we’ll see where I end up in the spring. And to everyone still in New York, treasure those halal trucks. I miss them the most.


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