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It’s Tuesday and I’m supposed to be working on a project for my old boss but instead I’m blaring Bad Romance on repeat from my laptop speakers and dancing  around my room pretending to pack. I leave for Colorado in three days and I’ve packed four boxes. Which is one box more than I packed yesterday. It’s a slow process. (So far, I’ve packed books, purses and shoes. All very important things.)

So while I’m pretending to pack I’m also fielding questions from a certain russian princess back in NYC and it’s all in caps like WHY ARE YOU MOVING? WHERE WILL YOU LIVE? ARE YOU MOVING FOR A BOY? DO YOU HAVE ANY FRIENDS? And while coming from some people it’d be annoying, from her it’s rather cute because this is just …her. Just like putting anything sparkly or shiny in front of her and you’ll have her devotion forever.

All of this, the emails, the Lady Gaga dance party, are just distractions from the big, huge changes that are about to happen in my life.

In three short days, I will finish packing up my stuff (hopefully), shove it into my car and drive the nineteen hours it’ll take me to get from Michigan to Boulder, Colorado. Despite it being only three days away, it still hasn’t hit me. I have my music to sing along to picked out for the ride and have mapped out the route my dad and I will take but I have no idea what I will do when I get there.

Two months ago I moved twelve hours away from my life in New York City. While I technically left it in mid-August when I left for Europe, it wasn’t official until I arrived back in the states and found myself in the attic room of my parents Michigan home. It hasn’t been so bad, once the initial stress of living with the parents went away. I have friends nearby, I have somewhat of a life and I have a home cooked meal ready for me every night. What isn’t there to love? But yet, I want more.

In three days, I will be nineteen MORE hours away from the life I used to have in New York City and while I am so excited to step into these new shoes and give them a twirl, I am also scared shitless. Yes, I know. I traveled through europe by myself for three months, I should be able to handle moving across the country. Right? Right.

Right?

I know this move is the right move for me right now. Living at home with my parents, while good for the bank, is getting me nowhere fast and the only way to get what I want is to take the proverbial bull by the horns. The fact that I don’t have a job, that I don’t have a means of income, is terrifying to me, though. The practical part of me is screaming at me, telling me that I have to be careful, that I have to watch my money because all this could come back and seriously bite me in the ass. What I have to do, is take that fear and face it head on and if I can’t get a job right away, get creative. I am a survivor. There is no failing at this, there is no turning back, no returning home with my tail between my legs. I have to do this. I HAVE TO DO THIS.

Just like I have to go combat this horrendous insomnia which is currently plaguing me. Last night (this morning?) I was awake until 4am and awake at 8. (and then fell back to sleep until 11:15. Whoops) Body, I could really do without the staying awake til all hours. I know we need to be prepared for the two hour time difference in Boulder, but this is a bit much. Fix yourself and fast! I have cupcakes to grab with Ria tomorrow!

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