These last two weeks have been quite a roller coaster. I’m up at 6 in the morning, and I’m going to bed sometime before 11pm. There are no more miles to be driven, and no more searching for the right place to live. There is really nothing that I have to do except consistently look for a job, work on my writing, and wait for my shit to get here tomorrow morning.
Ahh yes. All the shit that I packed into cardboard boxes will arrive 24 hours from now, and perhaps it will make me stay busy for at least another few days, because I’m starting to crave a routine that DOESN’T necessarily make me get up at 5:55am, unless of course I’m getting paid.
I really miss my bed and I miss the option of having more than three button down shirts and two pairs of shoes to wear, and I guess I could go on complaining about how things didn’t go exactly the way I thought they would since I’ve been here but in another way, they could have gone much worse.
I stress out at times when I’m faced with some big changes. I’m sure we all do, but this time things just seem different. I’m somehow able to control the stress and not let it get to me, including that time the other night when I was coming back from Taco Bell and I tripped going up the steps outside my apartment which caused my phone to fall out of my pocket onto the concrete which then cracked the screen on said phone. Normally I would have gotten pissed and angry, but for some reason it actually didn’t bother me that much.
I’m alone in a new city, and even though that can be a refreshing and inspiring vantage point, there is a part of the view from up here that makes me long for the people I said goodbye to back in January who wouldn’t let me pay for a meal or a drink for a week. There is an element to this decision that I knew could be an isolating one, but I still feel like in some way or another, I’m better off alone.
Alone, waiting for my shit to get here knowing that tomorrow the arrival of 25 plus boxes will magically cure the fleeting moments of emptiness that I only allow myself to feel for a few minutes each day I’ve been here.
I could tell you about the hastiness I experienced the night I arrived, or how I said too much information to a potential apartment manager and got denied for a place to live even before I applied, but I feel like I ended up where I needed to be…in more ways than one.
I know it was a risky move to uproot myself at my age with no place to live and pretty much no place to work, but I’ve been able to justify that first part because good things have happened to help improve my state of mind since I’ve been here. I feel less like a basket case, and more like a pioneer.
Also, I’ve been able to justify that second part because I am writing this from the apartment in my living room which has a couch, wi-fi, and which has a picturesque view to the East side of this enchanted land from my unfurnished balcony.
The third part, that job you may ask? I’m working on it.
Right now I just have to take a little time and settle into a new routine which hopefully doesn’t have me up at 6 in the morning, or has me going to bed before the late night news airs on all three local networks. I have to remember WHY I chose to make this move happen because I’ll be honest…sometimes when I think about where I am at, it scares the living shit out of me.
In the meantime, I’ll just be here, waiting for all my shit to arrive on a smaller truck that could fit on to the narrow street I chose to live. I’ll just be here trying to figure out the answers to the questions I have been asking for the last few weeks, and I’ll just be here looking at the these amazing sunrises that flood the Seattle sky with streaks of red and orange and yellow, if only for a few minutes each morning.
It’s not a bad view from up here.