Long time no see! Long time no chat! You probably think, based on my last post, that I slipped into an alcoholic hole, hidden from the rest of the world in self-destructive debauchery.
I didn’t, by the way. I’ve just been preoccupied. I’ve got all my belongings in storage save for the essentials, which are rolled up in my blue backpack, and I’m kinda couchsurfing around until I can move into my new house.
Yes. House. With a yard. I even signed a year-long lease.
With all the craziness going on around here, what with my brother moving out here, my job search and the like, the act of signing that lease hasn’t hit me as hard as I’d imagined it would. I’m in hyper-active survival mode right now, both for my own sake and for my little brother’s, so I’m not thinking deeply about much of anything. I’m just moving. Spending. Eating.
Ugh, the eating. I’ve been cursed with a body that has adverse reactions to like every food out there, and a post-anorexic greed when it comes to eating that causes zoned-out binges and followed by zealous admonishments of all things caloric. I also tend to give up coffee. Women and stress…it’s the worst combo ever.
Anyway, I’m currently at a coffee shop in Tempe (drinking coffee…I’ll quit again some other time) and thinking about newness, commitment, and the idea of home.
I like there to be a clear break from the old from the new. My guilty pleasure is New Years resolutions. They’re so clean, so fresh, so hopeful. I’ve got good intentions spilling out my ears on New Years day.
We’re halfway through 2012 and I’m thinking about my intentions when starting this thing. I’m thinking its time for a new fresh start.
Which is wonderful because there is so much newness about the place; I’ve got a new job, I’m going to be living in a new house with new roommates, and to top it all off, dig this externality; my roommate and I are going raw for a month. We are dubbing it Raw-gust, because we are just that witty.
So new home, new workplace, and renewed eating. Fresh as can be. My brothers have signed a year-long lease as well, in an apartment up north with two of my favorite guys. Things are new. We’re shaking the old off and learning the ropes of adult-siblinghood.
I’m grateful for them. I’m grateful that my soul-killing old job allowed for me to pay off debt and set aside enough to get me and my brothers through this gnarly month of newness. I’m grateful that I can couchsurf with church friends while my dog chases squirrels and things at another friend’s farm while we’re between homes. I’m grateful that my new roommate is out of town (er, country) for a couple weeks and has lent me her car. I’m grateful for my new job. I’m grateful for Pinterest.
And I’m grateful that, for at least a year, I am legally bound to be in one place. I’m excited to make a home, a sanctuary, a safe place for myself and my company. I’m excited to wake up aching with wanderlust and know that I have to just go back to bed. There is a peace in having less options, at least for a time. I’m excited to have real friends and learn how to swing dance and join a rock gym. I’m excited to frequent more coffee shops in Tempe.
And I’m excited, don’t you doubt it, to finish out my year here and go wild next summer, Associate’s Degree finally in hand. (What do you mean? A LOT of people go to community college for seven years.) Maybe a US/Canada road trip with certain Aussies who’ve been talking about it. Maybe South America. Maybe Papua New Guinea. Or maybe its going to be something I can’t even anticipate, something here.
A blog ought to be either informative or entertaining. Right now I’m a little less than both, but I wanted to preserve some regularity on this ‘ere blog site. I wanted to wave at you from across the internet and let you know I still care, and that I’m still here.
P.S. Apparently there’s a model named Jessica Moran, because one of the most frequent search engine phrase people find this little blog by is “Jessica Moran hot” or “Jessica Moran model”. This, and the fact that “Disney incest” also brought someone here, makes me cackle like a hyena. So. Much. Fun.
P.S.S Whoever “borrowed” my camera at the Fourth of July party took an impressive array of crotch shots. Here they are, because what else am I supposed to do with them?