Why can't I just commit to the idea of going to bed at a normal time? I was all ready, headed for the pillow, and decided my brain needed to unload...I swear PM bedtimes will return to my life someday soon.
Anyway, I am officially at the two week point of the big moving truck arriving in front of my house. I am in a blender right now and the decision has not been made as to what form I would taste best in. I personally would like to stop at on the rocks, extra sweet. This means I'd have never ended up in the blender anyway, but here are my unruly feelings of the moment:
Terrified, but excited about change. It is pretty big for me to admit the terror part, but holy shit, every night I feel like calling my friends 'just to talk'...struggles or no struggles, I know that I will have some green ass grass on the other side because of them, and that helps to curb the fears of not knowing or having my ideal perfectionist's control. I've got that glow on the inside though...hell yeah.
Worried I will have to eat cheap white bread and ramen for a month...though I did get a preliminary screening with DHS today via mail. My anxiety in the job search category is beyond ridiculous...I've got the skills, the experience, oh and that $40,000 piece of paper hanging on my wall. Wait, does that mean anything anymore?
Crying at work when I see pictures of my 'kids' on slideshows, and almost tearing up when people ask me when my last day is. Now this one is just rough, and I can easily admit that I will miss Oakley to no end...but also be happy to make a change. But damn, I will miss this squirrelly bunch of teenagers in need of 'therapeutic attention' and all my humor appreciating co-workers.
Wondering about the male species and if I will just try push them away with big pointy sticks. Honestly, the most captivating one of those I know is probably stuck many miles away for a while, much to my self admitted 'bummed-ness.' I am guessing I will enjoy visits from time to time, see what happens down the road, and live my life with absolute 'hmmmm, you're not good enough compared to that one' ideals for a while. That is until Jack Johnson shows up on my doorstep. Still not happening? Damn. This is all not to say that I'm not batting my eyelashes, but I have some worthy standards to uphold, and I'm not in any kind of rush (being attached for five years will do that to you). Boys from 'Bahston' who come up to my table and then refer to me as "Sarah blue eyes" for an hour are cute, but I already have a big sweet dog at home...I'm gonna be selective as all hell.
My life is up in the air. I am anxious, antsy, happy, impatient. But when I strip it all down to the stuff I already know, it looks to me as if I have a damn good foundation waiting at the end of the road. That blender's not making it any further than Idaho before it lands on the side of the freeway in a million pieces.
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