My last weekend in SLC is approaching. I’ve been here (with a slight interruption) for nearly a year. In classic needs-to-read-a-sappy-self-help-book fashion, I don’t feel like I’ve arrived at my “real life” yet, even though it’s passing around me every day. Yup, I’m living for tomorrow. In this culture people say that’s bad. I don’t know.
I’m not a ‘Type A’ personality and never have been, and I’m old enough and experienced enough to know that not everything in life can begin or end tidily, but once, just once, I wish I could feel like I was making a clean transition from ‘A’ to ‘B’ rather than a messy, half-assed, complex, overwhelming mess of an on-a-shoestring venture.
I’m a little sad. Okay, I’m a lot sad. I’ll miss my sisters, my pets, and yes, my parents. Always do. They like me more than anyone, so it’s only natural that it sucks to lose that positive reinforcement.
But oh well. I’ve done it before, and I’ll do it again. And maybe next time, once I’ve exhausted the string of academic abbreviations, I’ll finally have arrived at “real life” and can have a lifestyle (I once claimed to hate that word) instead of a living arrangement.
Life moves really fast. Really fscking fast.