There isn’t much that I hate more than moving which is surprising if you know me… I move a lot. I’m something of a gypsy except I won’t steal your shit. Not your nice shit anyway.

Let’s think about this…

After high school, I moved to Kennesaw. I lived there for less than a year. Then, on to Woodstock where I lived for about a year. Then back to my parent’s house. Then to Duluth for a few months. Then back to my parent’s house. Then to a different part of Duluth. Then back to my parent’s house, only this time, renting their basement apartment. I was there for a little over two years. Then to Clarkston, to a house. Then elsewhere in Clarkston, to an apartment. Then back to my parent’s house after my mother’s surgery for a few months. Then to Atlanta. Then to Decatur. And now, YET AGAIN, back to my parent’s house.

In ten years, I’ve moved twelve times. [Read more...]

Moving is proving to be… let’s just say it’s building my character. I feel pinned between two places and too many responsibilities. Tomorrow, bless his heart, the Giant is coming over with a friend to help me move my shit. A couple of other friends are coming, too. I’m hoping that I’ll actually be DONE packing by the time they get there. I’m also hoping that my reservation goes off without a hitch. Lord knows I hate rental truck companies. By design, they’re shitty operations. I can’t tell you how many times (three) I’ve reserved a truck and then arrived and they’re like, “Oh. I’m sorry. We’re out of trucks.” Like… WHAT THE FUCK!? That’s all you’re supposed to even HAVE here! I’ve got a reservation for a 16′ truck and I’m hoping that’ll be enough. There’s a part of me that wishes we could just turn the truck up on it’s end and then pick up my apartment and just shake all of my shit into it. Then I can go through it all when I am here, settled… one box at a time.

I hate moving.

I hate moving.

I hate moving.

And tomorrow it’s supposed to be 80… But only a 20% chance of rain.

I find myself bouncing back and forth between stupid, happy-clappy, mindless motion on this planet and then times like now… Where I am perpetually pensive and exhausting my friends with an endless series of rhetorical questions that I (annoyingly) answer and ask again and again.

I am in a place of yes.

Do you remember when you were a kid and learning how to swim? How violently you would swing your arms against the water pushing back on your little legs and arms? How you’d take such a deep animated breath in order to just submerge your head under the water? The deliberate way we’d hold our arms out above our heads, toes over the edge of the deep end and arc out backs just-so and then lean into the water and belly flop anyway?

That’s been my life as of late. Fucking deliberate, well-intentioned, thoughtful movements from one place to another and then… belly flops. [Read more...]