“If it were all a party, the periods would be by the bar, drinking whiskeys and politely discussing the price of daycare, the commas chiming in at just the right moment, while the exclamation points pretend to dance, nodding furiously at anything anyone says, smiling so hard their eyes look crazy, taking way too many photos, teetering on their impractical shoes — tiny dots under those tall frames, fitting: excitement’s such an unsteady emotion compared to the loyalty of regret or the militia-like reliability of anger— spilling their Red Bull and vodkas, and claiming to have the time of their lives.”—
“You get a strange feeling when you’re about to leave a place. Like you’ll not only miss the people you love but you’ll miss the person you are now at this time and this place, because you’ll never be this way ever again.”—Azar Nafisi (via paradoxicalsentiments)
This happens to me every time I make a big move. I consider my options, deliberate, and make the call to move. But during this time of preparation there are a few moments where it suddenly dawns on me with complete and total clarity what I am about to do. Saturday on the train to Westchester I experienced 30 seconds where I understood that I was moving to Paris for the month of August. Of course I’ve known this all along, but oftentimes the reality of these decisions escapes me in my day-to-day. It’s probably for the better though, these moments come with such overwhelming emotions that to live in a constant state of it would be impossible. I’d be nonfunctional.
It should also be said that I’ve been getting nervous about this move in the past week. It’s mostly a finances thing but some of it is the fear of being lonely (which is unavoidable). I often wonder if my mind stores up all this excitement and dishes it out when it knows I need it most. It knows I’ve been stressed about these things and gives me a healthy reminder and then tucks it away again so as not to render the rest of July useless.
I still clearly remember when it dawned on me that I was moving to New York City. My parents were driving me to the airport (a bit late for a realization, I know, but the move to New York was more of a necessity and therefore more rooted in reality). We had just turned out of our subdivision and I suddenly blurted out “I’m moving to New York!” everyone chuckled a little like, yea, duh, that’s why we’re taking you to the airport right now; but at that moment I had such a real, tangible idea that I was making a huge change and was so flooded with excitement that I had to share it.
I can imagine myself boarding a plane on August 1st and suddenly be overcome with this feeling again. A little teaser of the adventure that lies on the other side of the Atlantic.
“It isn’t generally people pulling back-to-back shifts in the I.C.U. or commuting by bus to three minimum-wage jobs who tell you how busy they are; what those people are is not busy but tired. Exhausted. Dead on their feet. It’s almost always people whose lamented busyness is purely self-imposed.”—The ‘Busy’ Trap