Hello, world. Guess what?
For the past few weeks, I have been trying to talk myself around to believing that stress caused by something exciting and wonderful doesn’t actually exert any pressure. It’s a tickle. It’s a small knowledge, somewhere behind your skull, that this list of things in front of you is work, but great sparklin’ stars, look at what it all leads to! And the grin from looking at that horizon is so bright that it will shove every shadow out of your way.
It’s a pretty picture, though not nearly so vivid as the truth: that I can be bursting with the boldest, brightest grins that I know, and my hands will be surprisingly free to pull my own hair out.
Because work is work, stress is stress, and we human beings are gloriously complicated.
I’m moving to California in twelve days. California, in case you were wondering, is 2,600 miles from my current home. I’m starting out a hop-skip away from the Atlantic Ocean and basically driving due West, stopping just before I fall into the Pacific. And I’m driving there with everything I own packed into my little red car.
My sister is waiting for me on the other side (my name has been on her spare room since she moved in), and this is exactly the sort of adventure that I love.
But I have to pack.
And I have to plan.
And I have to finish getting my driver’s license.
Did I not mention that part? I probably haven’t because, honestly, I’m embarrassed as heck that I don’t have it yet. I try not to tell people I don’t have it. When I have to tell them, I like to distract them with made up stories about why I don’t have it:
My fairy godmother and I agreed it was probably a poor idea, what with the curse and all…
Machines like to malfunction around me and I’m afraid of causing an Artificial Intelligence uprising…
It doesn’t really make sense to get it when I’m just going to have to reapply for an interstellar license when I decide to claim my rightful place on the royal throne of Pluto…
In seven days I’ll take my final driver’s test. My fingers have been crossed since I booked the test time, four weeks ago. My nightmares have run out of plausible things that could go wrong, and started in on things like what will happen if I get my arms tangled trying to keep all nine of my hands on the steering wheel at all times.
Now, I wish I were the type of writer who could take stress, put it on paper, and twist it into something beautiful, but I’m not. Instead, I’m the type of writer who stays up too late, sleeps too late, rereads her favorite books, and decides now is the perfect time to finish getting ALL the slayer achievements on that one video game. Oh yeah, and write her blog at 11 p.m.
I’ll arrive in California on November 7th. I have no idea what I’ll be posting on this blog between now and then, only that it won’t be anything that adds any pressure to my day.
I’ll see you on the other coast. :)