Last Day Thoughts

It was a bit surreal this morning seeing my landlord come over to stick a fresh "for rent" sign into the ground in front of our apartment.  And I pity my poor husband for the excitement he must now feign during our apartment's showings in the coming weeks.  I've realized that no matter how ready you are to leave something behind in life, it will always hurt just a little to watch it go on without you.

I also said goodbye to my car today, still finding it hard to believe that the next time I'll see it will be in front of my parent's house in Massachusetts. I'm sure it will be confused not to have the constant reflection of palm trees bouncing off its glass each day and will be equally perplexed at the slippery freezing hell it must now maneuver through every winter.  But I know it will forgive me as it carries my now ever- present loved ones within its doors, as we laugh and talk and share our lives once again.



















 

Empty Office

This could be anybody's office now, because it is no longer mine.  And the items around it, that for five years sang my name, have all been removed.  I can't help but wonder if the next person will look at its beauty in the same way I did; at its pictures, at its view, if they will appreciate the way it gives you just the smallest bit of needed peace.  And I also wonder if this luxury will ever come my way again, or if I'm forever doomed to stare at the side of some characterless cubical for the rest of my working days.  But the saddest part of it all, is that one day, this special little space that I once inhabited, will have almost completely faded from my mind, only to reappear once more with the finding of this picture, followed by the realization that I had almost forgot it even existed at all. 

One More Week

It's strange to think that I only have one more week left of work, especially since this particular set of days, at one time, seemed almost unfathomable.  And I guess the best and the worst parts of the next few days will most definitely be the amount of "last times" they will ultimately contain.  For example, today will be the last Monday I'll ever work here and the last time I'll ask any of my coworkers how their weekends turned out.  And then as the middle of the week slithers dangerously closer, my lasts will turn into things like the last time I'll be filling out my time card or the last time I'll be attending a meeting here.  And then ultimately, as the final day is suddenly smiling at me as I wake into its light, it will then be the last time I trek down that hill into Valencia and the last time I see most of the people that I've spent every waking hour of my work life with for the past five years. And although most of us would rather disappear suddenly into the night than be forced to endure the sappy parade of goodbyes that most likely awaits us at the end of the week, we know it's just something in life that we all must face, as we secretly long for the moment when we get into our car on that last, beautiful day, adjusting our rear view mirror in such a way that we can't quite make out what we've left behind.

Negativity

We've all had to deal with negative people in life.  And wherever we go, chances are we'll meet another asshole ready to have it out with us.  And unfortunately, I have encountered a few of these people, who have reacted with such cynicism at the news of our departure from this "great" state of California.  Some were innocent, others passive-aggressive in an attempt to make me feel like I was already gone.  And of course these comments started to affect me quite immensely, but it wasn't long until I recognized that this was only the case because of my own insecurities about leaving.  And in fact, most of those self-doubts that I had, had been fueled over time by California's own culture, with a people who tend to think that their state, particularly the entertainment industry in general, should consume one's life or else you're deemed a talentless failure.  And of course I know that I am nothing close to a failure, but merely one of the lucky ones who finally realized I wanted something richer in life, and it absolutely could not be found here.

Coincidentally, I have a friend who is going through pretty much the same thing as I, except for the fact that he's already made it out.  He wrote me a nice email yesterday, telling me that once I leave, things will get a whole lot easier because they certainly have for him.  I smiled at his words, as he reinforced my belief that after the smog has cleared from my eyes, and I can finally escape from this bubble I have been living in for the past eight years, I will finally be able to breath the fresh air once again. 

Life is Short

I watched this video this morning and it absolutely spoke to what my whole journey is about.  And yes, some may look at it as an attempt at some pretty persuading advertising, but beyond that, this message just couldn't be ignored, at least by me.

Plantless

In envisioning the many variables of my move, I always knew that someday I'd be forced to give up all my plants.   I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm no hoarder or anything, but I do have more than a few lovely, and not so lovely variations of them.  I guess amongst my obsessive planning of our ultimate departure, I never truly realized how something so small could affect me.  But as I posted a 'free potted plants' ad on Craigslist on Sunday, reality suddenly seemed to feel a bit colder.  Most of them had been with me for the past eight years and on some level I guess I cared about them; most for the life they had breathed into our place, and others merely because they had been given to me by my mother.  But as the woman came to take them one by one until they were just a memory,  my heart suddenly sank as a small sadness began to wash over me.  And I have to admit that I am almost embarrassed that I was actually sad over a bunch of small time vegetation, but It's true, I was.  Right after the last plant had been taken away,  I immediately decided to call my mother to tell her how I was feeling.   She of course knew how to make things better, telling me that those plants were part of a chapter I was closing,  and that the minute I got back to her house, we would together start all new plants in her garden, so that I may take them to my new place in Boston.  It's funny how just a few beautiful words strung together can make all the difference.    

The Tell

I'd been obsessing about how this would all go for some time.  How the people at work would react as I told them I'd be moving back to Boston.  And of course, it all went as fine as it could have, but truth is, life will go on without me, whether I like it or not.  It's just how the world works.  And of course my name will be uttered here and there, some positive, some negative, but its mention will fade more and more as time goes by, until suddenly I'm "that girl" or "that one who took off to Boston."  It was a tough decision to move back, one my husband probably could have done without, but I know deep inside he's happy that we made it.  But from the moment I moved here almost eight years ago, it always just felt like I was preparing to live.  And I refuse to feel that way anymore.  So here's to change. And lots of it.