I Wanna Be Joan Cusack

2003-07-31 - 12:53 a.m.

'"tomorrow might be good for something"'

Sometimes I get so caught up in the actual living of life that I forget my usual urgent need to sit down and write about it. Sometimes the urgency starts to fade into a dull throb. Then into a flutter. And it keeps shrinking and shrinking and shrinking until what was once an all-consuming urgency becomes something kind of smooth and muted. Until it all but disappears behind a happy reality.

It becomes eclipsed by the breathing. And seeing. And sleeping in the moment. And sometimes, though I still haven't figured out how, the part of me that usually gets so preoccupied and filled up with words just hollows out. And I'm left with is this beautiful emptiness. One that can only come in the aftermath of being far too filled up. It's an emptiness that wards off insomnia. And allows me to leave a moment right where I left it. Right where it left off.

This emptiness is keeping me full up these days.

Because I just got back from another summer-time pilgrimage into my new city. This time to find a place to live. And I found just that. And it's so amazingly cute. And right down town. And the kitchen has these turquoise blue tiles on the counter tops. And the whole place sung to me when I walked in. And I knew. Just knew that I would live there. That this was the place to begin. To begin again. It was that simple. And it felt good. So I move in on the fourteenth. And I couldn't be more excited about that.

So in the meantime I'm back in Nebraska. Trying to put some order to the chaos I've created over the past few months. Because if there's anything that's really important to me, it's leaving the past where it lies. I want to be able to move to Austin clean. And new. Without any of the old worries pressed into my skin cells or lost somewhere in the back of my mind. I want to go. And go. And go. Run until I hit that most perfect place. And just never ever look back.

To do that, though, there are lists to be made and items to be ticked off. Check. Check. Check. And things right now are still all sorts of crazy. And hectic. But so fucking worth it, becuase I'm going it alone. This whole thing has been all me. No help. No support. I own this move. And it's all waiting for me there. At the end of this short story. It's just waiting to be plucked. And had. And fucking embraced. I can barely wait.

�

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