What I’m Waiting for :: April 29th, 2002 ::
I’m sitting on the floor of this room, which is completely empty except for my backpack and the laptop on which I am typing. I’m waiting for the cable guy to show up to shut off my Internet connection. The very same connection I’m using to post this message. I am writing with a sense of urgency not dissimilar from having a conversation on a cell phone while driving into a tunnel. I don’t know for sure if I will get in everything I want to say. Nor do I know whether this will get posted. My stomach clenches just slightly if I think about it too much.
Am I being melodramatic? Just a bit? Maybe. I spent the weekend putting everything I own into boxes. I found I was emotionally involved in the process. Implicit in every decision is a judgment on the things I have accumulated. “Is it worth taking this with me?” I’ve asked myself again and again. “Will I bring it and never use it?” “Will I be complaining to myself in a month for not bringing that other thing?” It can be hard to predict such things.
Of course, these questions and the nervousness that makes them so persistent are symptomatic of the fact that I am fully in a stage of transition. On May 9th I leave for Buffalo. By May 12th I’ll be at the Barn. Until then I’ll be staying with family and friends and hoping that nothing goes awry. Oh, and I can’t forget to forward my mail.
OK, there’s the door...
