Moving's funny, we all hate being in a rut, but we also hate endings and uncertainty. Moving on is hard, from a romance ending, a parent dying, to just the end of the summer.

I'm moving on from a lot of things right now, and it's very, very weird. I've been living in this place for almost 12 years, the longest I've ever lived anywhere. I've graduating from college, moving to the biggest metropolitan area I've ever lived in by far--without a place to live--and I don't know if I'll be in grad school at Stanford for 1 1/2 years (MA) or 5-6 years (PhD), or any idea what kind of job I'll get or how I'll pay rent and tuition in the meantime, or how I'll pay for the surgery on my wrist that I need... all the safety of the previous 22 years is gone. It's good to be moving on--I know that. I'm looking forward to leaving here, I'm looking forward to moving to the Bay Area. And my most loved ones are going with me. So sure, it's a good thing.

But it's strange...

--and frightening.
Real change seems to hit you when you're least expecting it. So I guess the huge planned change that is soon to hit me in September won't be as mind-boggling as I'm anticipating. Or, at least, not in the way I'm expecting it to be. Moving on is weird, but never in a predictable way, so why not resign yourself to enjoying the journey?

I never cry when I move on. I smile, knowing that the pain will hit me later, catching me while I'm drinking coffee or driving to work or even peeing. What can I say, bathrooms make me emotional.

I really should be scared; I'm moving away to a big scary city with big buildings and big opportunities and big nightmares, and, like Wintersweet, I have no idea how I will make ends meet. But I'm not. Funny, when I know I should feel fear all I can find is excitement, and when all I want to feel excitement fear always seems to take its place. So it goes.

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