Blogging on myspace, up until about six months ago, I described the misadventures of a young woman new to the East Coast, NYC bars, sex, and lies. It was good stuff. But like the music bands advertise on myspace, it was also based on complaints. How I didn’t like myself, and when I did, how sure I was that my rare optimism was based on insanity. If I was having a good time, it must be because I was delusional.
I’ve worn, written and talked miserable for a long time. Sort of like wearing the grunge look for twelve years too many, going shopping in flannel when everyone else has moved on to skinny jeans. I’m missing out on so much, and worse, cluttering up good blogs (and loved ones’ ears) with caveats about my unfitness to breathe the air required to speak.
I’d like to write this blog differently. For instance, my last blog was about how crazy everything is here at home while we pack up. I was complaining. But look how silly that is! I’m delighted that we’re moving. Sure, it’s hard work, but I wouldn’t trade being the one to help my mom with this, for anything. I get to pack boxes, clean out closets, and stow everything away, watching this house empty out, so we can leave it behind.
I’ve hated Salem since we drove into it to check out this house before my parents bought it, and it makes me so happy to finally see all of us clear of it. And to spend a month with my mom before leaving the country- how cushy is that! It’s a great event, in a great life, as I finally go to spend a slice of time in Europe. I’m only a few weeks from witnessing the antiquity, the culture, the Differentness, I’ve always wanted to firsthand.
No complaints. I rock, my family rocks, and this world rocks. I’m a short time away from finding out exactly how much.