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.

Sometimes you just have to grab it with both fists...

Change is not always easy. There's this part of me, a significant part, that fights against change at every moment. Changes in online social networks send me into a rage. Changes in my life, send me into a strange anxiousness coupled with lethargy and apathy.

I turned in my two-weeks notice on Friday (and by Friday I mean Tuesday). I went to the school and tried to print it out on their computers (but the file was incompatible, so I waited). While driving there, I was filled with a sinking lightness and heaviness in my toes, the area behind my bellybutton, my finger tips, and throat. I print this out, and in two weeks I will not have a job. I will not have a job, and I will not have a place to live by the end of the month. I did not mind that the file was not compatible and I went to work and could pretend that nothing was different. Regardless, I knew it was coming while I sat there. Listening to the heavy machines puncture fabric and leaving behind a row of thick thread like a scar in skin. This was not meant for me.

I knew I was turning in my two weeks notice, I had dozens of applications in four major cities. Two fall back plans. I was leaving my job. And I'm leaving this state.

I have an interview for a job in SLC next week thanks to the thoughtfulness and connections of friends. I have  five more days at a factory. I am looking at my pictures on these walls and I know they will be in a box in the matter of days, a week or two tops. I don't know where I'm going, or what I'm supposed to be doing. But I can make change happen in my life.

I can get up and go for a run tonight. Oh, I went running three days last week, and once already this week. I can do this!