I love the ocean but I hate the streets

As you can imagine, it's been a weird week. I haven't worn real clothes since last Saturday which means I've basically been alternating between one pair of pj's and one pair of yoga pants because (*spoiler alert* for any men that want to sleep with this hot hive covered body) I don't actually like sleeping in full length pajama pants. They wrap around my feet and annoy me and are stupid. Also, I went to my grandparents' with enough clothes to spend two to three days there and have now spent an entire week in my childhood bed room which became my little brother's room about six years ago but he's off at school in Utah. I've been to the doctor twice and stopped by my "home" once to pick up more clothes.

There are places, roads, beaches in Sonoma County that fill me with this overwhelming feeling of being home, but my childhood bedroom, I have almost no attachment to. I haven't really stayed at my home (as in the place where all my stuff is, where I've been living with Matt) since before I left for New York and, stopping by, I realized I really wouldn't miss it.

I'm in this weird limbo. The point was to just come home, pack everything up, say my good byes and go. For the past week I haven't packed anything. Most of the week my face was so swollen that I didn't actually have peripheral vision and wasn't comfortable driving. Anytime my skin touched anything, new hives would appear, so I couldn't really be packing up boxes and moving things anyway. I haven't seen anyone except my family, doctors and Ms. Mae (who brought me a cake and a Philadelphia Story one day).  I'm alternating between steroids and antihistamines so I feel mildly insane.

I know that there's still a room for me in New York. I know there are even boxes of mine in it, but the reality of me moving to New York feels like it's slipping away. The longer it takes, the easier it is for all my doubts and insecurities to slip in, especially with the amount of time I've basically spent doing nothing. Can I afford this? Will I find a job? Am I going to be able to meet new people? Make new friends? What if I don't love it in New York as much as I think I will? What if it's a disappointment?

See, when the plan is to just say "fuck it" and move, those things don't really enter the picture because you're too busy getting your shit together to think. This situation hasn't actually changed, the dates have just been pushed back a little and as I start to feel and look less like a mutant, I'm getting back to being excited and ready for the tast and adventure at hand. It's probably still going to be a couple of days at my current rate of recovery before I'm actively packing and saying good bye again but in a weird way, even though all those questions are running through my head, my lack of attachment to the places that are supposed to be home also helps me realize that right now, this is not where I belong.

 

Download 08 California (holds nothing for me)