Screeching halt.

There seems to be one thing that never fails to wind me up, spin me around, and cause all forward movement to cease. Luckily, I am better equipped to rev my engines this time around. As grinding as it may be.

I have not resigned myself to Utah life. I love being in Salt Lake, it's kinda crazy and familiar and alien all at once and is just the energized place I long to be right now. But when I back up and think of where Salt Lake is located, and what surrounds me, I struggle to breathe and have the desire to rocket myself to the coast, to the south, to the moon.

Yet, I have never felt more like this exact location is where I need to be at this moment. So I'll just keep my view narrow at the moment and plow through whatever it is I need to do while here before getting that change from this change.

My internship is pretty much the best thing in the world. I am familiar with the content, and have been trained for four years to hone the skills to accomplish what is being asked of me.

My job is pretty much the best thing in the world. I'm constantly at a complete loss -- information glides over my brain like water over a glass dome. But the people, the atmosphere, and the moments when those drops of water permeate through, it's just the best. I look forward to feeling productive, in the meantime I'm thankful for YouTube.com.

This experience has been perfect to illustrate that change is hard, uncomfortable, and tiring. But it can feel so right at the same time. I do not want to go back, and I'm trying to see the time when this will be just as good as I have felt in the past, like how I feel in my heart.

One thing I wish would change.

But am getting better at accepting the way it is.

"You are not my world."

of scenery

Finding a home is a difficult thing. A few weeks ago, I traveled to Salt Lake City with my former boss and good friend, S Morgan. I had an interview, and she had to go house hunting. The interview went really well.

As we drove from Pleasant Grove to Brigham City and searched condos, houses, and half-a-doubles, I was trying to imagine trading in a home I've made into a safe haven for some unknown. With noisy neighbors. Less square footage.

I've had several places that were home to me. A drafty narrow house built on the side of a river bank in Pennsylvania. A crowded apartment that smelled like stale spices in Idaho. Somewhere between two parking lots at the base of a hill in a teeny tiny town. And a young man's arms.

Each place had been hard to leave, and though I may sometime revisit each, it's never the same. There's been transition periods in between, sometimes lasting years. I know that I have out grown places. I don't know where my next home will be. My stuff is in storage in a different town. And my bed is wherever I can stretch out.

But a job is a good start. Thanks for the welcome, SLC.