Holy smokes/cow/Toledo/moly/holy holy, I did it. I did it! I successfully moved out of my apartment in, like, one weekend. Like. LIKE. I packed, cleaned, moved, and am currently in the process of unpacking. HOW DID I TURN INTO A SUPERHUMAN?! I will admit that I had a lot of great help. Thanks, Pa, for cleaning the Most Revolting Bathroom in America! And thanks, Tate, for having the Most Spacious Van in America! Make America Great Again! Buy Everyone a Van! Seriously, though, how generous of those two dudes for taking out hours of their time to help li'l old (I'm almost 32) me flee my cave and seek refuge in the warm embrace of my mother's pink and well-lit condo. Generous TO THE MAX.
I think I might be typing this in my sleep. I am so asleep right now. Lucid blogging. I couldn't sleep last night because I was hella anxious about the snowstorm and having to move in the snowstorm. I was, of course, picturing the worst scenarios in my head. Crashing on the freeway! My shit littered all over the road! Everyone sees my underwear! Well, surprise surprise, everyone -- that ain't my underwear. I don't wear underwear, sillies. Musta been the briefs of another unfortunate victim of the snowy conditions. (Note: Nothing unfortunate happened except for a box of books tipping over, exposing my love for pornographic literature. KIDDING. Well, I guess I DO like Anais Nin. Anyway, the snow sucked, but we survived and it didn't take as long as I expected and now my father and Tate are totally in a bromance. Get a freakin' room, you two! Or a van. Yeah, definitely get a van instead. It is like a room, but on wheels.)
I know it's probably too early to tell, but I am pretty certain I made the right decision moving back. I feel a huge weight off of my li'l old (I'm almost 32) shoulders. I feel freer, calmer, more inspired. THE WORD "FREER" LOOKS SO WRONG. I know I make living in that apartment sound like a tragedy -- but it wasn't. It taught me a lot, which I will explain in greater detail later. Overall, it made me appreciate the small things and to shrug off the things that don't ultimately matter. I come back to Orem with a new perspective and a deep appreciation for windows and ground-level living. I am happy. I am relieved. I AM AMERICA.
There is a big task ahead of me, though. I didn't move back to escape from life and become an even more stubborn recluse. Quite the opposite, in fact. To put it not-so-eloquently, I came back to figure out my life, to take a brief and necessary pause in order to move forward. I refuse(d) to stay stuck, to settle for less than I deserve. I am so proud of myself. And I realize the luxuriousness of my situation -- that I have a support system which allows me to take this break. I hope to remain humble, thankful, and to not take this valuable time for granted.
NOW to go on a quiet walk around a park and marvel at the milky mountains I missed more than I expected. Lucky, lucky, li'l old (I'm almost 32) me.