I, oh, I’m still alive. Yeah.

I guess Pearl Jam lyrics don’t quite carry the same weight when typed out, so please read today’s title in Eddie Vedder’s voice.

I have two other tabs with blog entries open, but they’re about things that happened over 7 days ago now, and my brain isn’t conjuring up the words very well.  I have an infinity of pictures to edit and I should probably organize my thoughts on all the shit that’s been going on for the past little while.  I feel like I’m blogstipated and I need to get all of these words and photos OUT, but it’s sooo haaaard.

For one thing, I started NEW new job.  And I think maybe one coworker reads this blog?  Or maybe more? I don’t want to flatter myself by thinking everyone’s watching, but considering it’s a brand new job full of smart people, thinking about any of them potentially reading this is terrifying.  The people at this job are genius-level intelligent, and many of them have Actual Blogs, with a point to each entry, and a decent design, as opposed to the glorified diary I’m keeping here.  I’m beyond nervous that someone will read this and be like, “Oh THIS is who we hired?  Fucking whoops, dude.  I demand a recount.”

Also things in general are just strange right now.  I don’t have a car anymore, I don’t have a home, all the friends I lived close to are now 3,000~ miles away, and family members that have always been across the continent are now local.  The theme of the past several days has been “surreal”.  I can’t believe we actually did it.  I can’t believe that when I fly home Friday that I’ll be flying home to PDX.  I am still in shock that I got this job, and I’m currently writing to you from Quebec, a place I never thought I’d go (not for any particular reason, it just never made it on the list).  I can’t believe we did the whole drive without losing a dog or a tire or even a pair of sunglasses.  I can’t believe I just turned thirty-fucking-four yesterday, and I still think poop jokes are the pinnacle of humor.  Sometimes I feel like I can feel every single day of all 34 years, and sometimes it feels like I went to bed after a tough day of 3rd grade and woke up as an adult.  I’m like Tom Hanks in Big, the more I think about it.

Okay now I’m crying and I don’t even know why, which means it’s time for bed.  The past two weeks have been a huge emotional blur and I’m looking forward to some sort of normalcy, though it could be a while before that happens.  Good night!

 

 

 

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