Tag Archives: moving

Lost

Currently, I’m sitting in the dark at the new apartment, which still doesn’t feel like “home.” I’m eating an Amy’s TV dinner and listening to Coldplay’s “Magic” while the dog looks out the window wondering if there are squirrels running amok. The weather is not bright and sunny, but sad, almost morbid. It fits my mood. 

After many months, I have finally found a new job and relocated over 350 miles from “home.” This is disconcerting to say the least. For many, this isn’t anything to write about. People pack up and move all the time. But for more than a few decades, I have been in the same city of under 200k located in the middle of nowhere. Now, I’m in a true metropolis and I feel lost. 

My friends and family tell me I should be happy. Maybe I should, but I’m in mourning. I miss my friends and my family left behind – especially my daughters and my mother. Right now I miss my friends at work. I know I’ll make some new friends, but it’s not feeling the same. Maybe it’s not supposed to. I don’t know. 

I’m sorry this first post in a while is so depressing… I promise I’ll shake the mood after I wallow for a bit. Maybe I just need to get out of the darkness that surrounds me and wander around this new city that I now call home. 

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I Love Tape and Star Wars… and tape…

I don’t see how the Empire could be powerful enough to control the galaxy and still lose to an army of teddy bears   :confused:

The Empire did not lose to a bunch of teddy bears. They lost because of the damned wookie.



For the past few days I have slept some. I have eaten some. And I have packed more boxes than I ever care to again.  I know good and well I will more than likely be repeating the process again in 2014 twice – once to finish this move and another to hopefully move from the apartment into a more permanent residence. I. AM. NOT. AMUSED.  Okay, I’m better. Just had to get that out. Phew.  

What is tickling my “not so funny bone” during this weird adventure is “tape.” 

Since the first time I encountered the wonderfully sticky substance and wrapped my first present using GOBS of it, tape has been my friend. It’s versitile, handy and my “go-to” adhesive for many things.  Let’s face it, without duct tape the world would be in sorry shape. Who needs the force? I am Obi Wan with duct tape. 

But packing tape is an entirely different story. 

It’s not like duct tape, electrical tape, scotch tape, strapping tape, etc. It has it’s own handled dispenser which my husband handles as if he were Luke Skywalker brandishing his light saber against Darth Vader in the Battle of Endor.  I operate it like an Ewok trying to fly a sky rider while a storm trooper is after me.  It’s a bloody mess. My husband is a Packing Tape Jedi Knight. Yoda is he. In awe am I. 

Yoda stated earlier to me he was tired of going to war with the Boxes.  He said, “After days of battle, I’m tired and sore. And if I have to hear the sound of tape again…”

I tuned out the Jedi Master. 

With all of the tape I have ever wielded, I have never once given thought to the sound it makes coming off the roll.  We battled another box and it yielded it the tape. Each strip held a sound different from the last as it howled its battle cry. 
As we sealed the last box for part one of the journey, Yoda was exhausted, but victorious. He never wants to hear the tape emit any sound as long as he lives. He deserves a long, winter’s nap. Personally, I want to know if packing tape would have finished building the other half of the Death Star (or maybe that’s really the job of packing tape’s big brother duct tape.) I think I’m going to have to find a Wookie and ask… 

Simplicity and Honesty

I normally start all my blogs with a quote. Today – not so much.  I’m going to try to keep this simple and honest. No pretty pictures. Just raw and honest about a few things.

When I was a kid, I had all the unrealistic expectations you would expect a child to have. As I became a teenager, I had a couple of lofty ambitions. I expected I would become a journalist, the next Woodward/Bernstein, or I would work for Rolling Stone or Time magazine – travel the world and see the sights and hear the sounds the world has to offer.  But I grew older and I settled for less and I settled down. I got used to routine and the day-in/day-out became comfortable.

I never stopped to wonder why.

The time has come to take everything I have known and disenfranchise myself from my hometown and take on “new adventures.” It’s harder when we get older. Even though I remind myself I’m not old, right now – this very moment – I feel old. And afraid.

There. I said it. I’m afraid of starting completely over.

I’m afraid of moving to a new place that’s not so comfortable. This town is like a well-worn pair of jeans. But I’m scared to see if that pair of jeans is just hanging on by a thread and if my underwear is starting to show.

I’m afraid of trying to find a new job.
I’m afraid of not finding a job.
I’m afraid of looking for a new place to live.
I’m afraid of homelessness.
I’m afraid of finding new doctors because mine know me so well.
I’m afraid of not finding doctors that have a clue.
I’m afraid of driving in a place I know nothing about that has a crap-ton more traffic.
I’m afraid of getting into an accident.
I’m afraid of not fitting in.
I’m afraid of people not understanding my warped sense of humor.
I’m afraid of being “alone” in a place with thousands of people.
I’m afraid of wanting to come running “home” and home just not being home anymore.

I never thought that my fearless teenage self would be sitting in front of a computer at middle age afraid to embrace change. But there it is in stark black and white. Simple and honest.