I’ve been feeling off lately, disconnected, reserved. The majority of my thoughts are focused on Seattle, I feel like I’m forever waiting for something to happen, and not able to make something happen on it’s own.
I didn’t realize how difficult it is to move somewhere once you settle in with another person. Moving here was easy for me, I made up my mind and left a few weeks later. Bing, bang, boom. Easy. Uprooting the lives of two people at the same time and moving them somewhere new is more difficult.
More than that, since I know we’re leaving I’m reluctant to do anything or get involved in anything or with anyone here. It makes me not want to do anything or go anywhere, and having toys to review and posts to write and a house to clean makes it easier for me to not leave the house. I go very few places, and I do very few things. Sometimes I am contented with that, and sometimes I feel I should do more.
It’s easy for me to get caught up in one of my many many projects and websites online. I don’t mind it, and I get exercise at home, yoga mostly. I have things to keep me busy, but I’m missing something.
I’m waiting to have a life until we move, and it’s difficult. It’s easy on those days and weeks that I don’t feel like talking to people, on those days I crawl into myself and try to make believe the rest of the world doesn’t exist. On the days I actually want to be around people, though, it’s hard to be waiting.
I have all these plans once we move to Seattle. There are places and groups I want to get involved with, stores and jobs to check out, new people and people to get to know better. I have these plans, but I have to wait until the time is right, until we have the money and the ability to move. We’re both ready and bursting with the desire to get out of this city, but still we wait.
Every time I think “I hate waiting” my mind launches into this, the automatic exchange that comes with those three words together, below:
Indigo: I hate waiting… could I give you my word as a Spaniard?
Wesley: No good, I’ve known too many Spaniards.
I: Isn’t there any way you’ll trust me?
W: Nothing comes to mind.