For the first time in two months, I'm nervous about this trip.
Maybe it's the turbulence we've been experiencing for the past thirty minutes. Maybe it's just my annoyance toward the kid in front of me who, in between playing with loud apps on his iPhone, has continuously rocked his seat back and forth trying to get comfortable, hitting my netbook with each back-and-forth motion. Or maybe this trip was never truly real to me until I realized that there's no turning back now. Not that I want to head back to Boston but it's such a radical shift, even if it's been anticipated for months.
More turbulence. This is getting ridiculous, almost as bad as the lightning storm on the way back from Vegas. I say almost because I'm not quite at the required level of near-pants-shitting fear that was reached in early June.
Anyway, I think it's the turbulence and not the fact that for the first time I'm going to be living out of state for more than a couple of weeks. Certainly the first time I'll have lived by myself...well, ever. There's a new assignment waiting for me, clouded in mystery and borderline befuddlement in respects to my role in the conversion, I've connected with a woman from Boston who is working in Sacramento until March and I'm meeting her for the first time when she picks me up from the airport. I'm super nervous about that; she's gorgeous and certainly out of my league though she insists she's not. She says she loves the way I talk, and she likes the way I treat her. That's a great feeling, except that I've heard that before and then in the next breath there's a sigh and a break-up, or a denial of a third or fourth date. I know how it works in the end; it's either physical attraction or bust. Them's the breaks.
I'm nervous about the size of my studio apartment. I've never lived in a studio. I'm the type of person who loves having people over to my place for drinks or to watch a game. That's nigh to impossible now unless it's one person and we still haven't gotten out of bed yet. I don't even know if there will be a couch in the place.
I'm nervous about my parents fending for themselves this fall, and especially this winter if my contract gets extended. My parents are not young and the driveway isn't going to clear itself, That reminds me, I'll have to call around Wakefield when I land and see if I can pay a plow to clear out the snow for my parents. I can't imagine it will cost much. My sister is moving to Beverly so she will not be around the house much. She's moving in with her boyfriend and I'm a little nervous for her as well, just from personal experience vis-a-vis leasing a place with a significant other and the complete and utter failure that came with it.
All of this nervousness is just leaking out of me, dying to escape so that maybe I'll be too scared to go through with it. But my nerves don't understand that it's having the opposite effect; by the time I land it will be completely drained and will have dissipated completely. That's my hope, anyway. There's so much to look forward to once I arrive in Sacramento: a new job, a possible love interest, new streets and areas to explore, 10am Patriots games (complete with brunch and booze), and a much-needed change of scenery. I feel like I've been stuck in second gear for almost a year and I am ready to speed up. I want to feel the rush of knowing that I am on my own, creating new memories and new friendships, learning and growing as a person as I traipse through the next chapter of my life,
It's scary and I'm nervous. I'm sure a lot of people feel the same way when they get to this juncture. If you haven't, then go out and scare the shit out of yourself. You'll be surprised what you learn about yourself. The petty shit that used to be so goddamn frustrating and heavy no longer seem all that important, They've been put back into their small places with the rest of the insignificance that attaches itself to people. I can't imagine an experience like this will be anything but beneficial to me and the people I love who want to see me soar and who will reap the rewards of my tiny, corporate vision quest.
And away we go.