gypsylike travel. 5
This time, I am committed to moving with no more than that which I can fit into two suitcases and a carry-on.
I want and need to shed so much. I am at a point in my life where I distinctively need to let go, of both the physical and the emotional.
I deleted a draft wherein I classified my ten-month sojourn as a failed engagement and a job layoff. Instead, I like to think of the most incredible dog laying at my feet, re-homed to my studio in December; I wouldn’t have her if I didn’t move here. It sounds so trite to talk about pets as if they’re children, but especially in juxtaposition to so much shit that doesn’t matter, the vitals really shine in such stunning light.
I look at a drawing one of my good friends, Lauren, made for me right before I left New York. I look at some baby pictures I brought back last time I left my parents’ place in the Carolinas. I look at the copy of The Mayor of Castro Street that my best friend, Emily, mailed to me on my birthday, now well-worn from multiple reads. We saw Milk together when she was in town, and the note on the front page still makes me smile.
As for the emotional: I have carried so much baggage on my shoulders since the beginning of the year, when my exceptionally ugly breakup was followed by sudden unemployment days before my birthday. Failure peppered everything in sight. Stability? Forget about it.
But I guess the past is never a mistake insofar as we use it to set forth into the future more productively. I learned that, damn, timing can just be BAD. You can approach situations with the greatest intentions, and the big picture can just wipe you out. Somehow, you just have to brush it off and keep going.
I feel so revitalized, with renewed focus and energy.
PS - Before you move away from New York, try more vacations. I knew within a month in that I made a mistake.
