Today has been nice. Monday has a weird way of disappearing Sunday melancholy, which, according to the dictionary, is another word for the humor black bile, which aptly describes my state of mind yesterday. Tonight I find myself sitting in a writing group called "Shut Up and Write" with a couple friends and strangers. It begs that I write while in fairly good spirits, a useful pursuit that I tend to neglect. I was thinking yesterday as I spewed bile how unfortanate it would be for new readers to come across my blog with me at my worst.
Today is Monday. Next week at this time I'll be crawling into a linened air mattress in my new home, new city, and new state. It's not as dramatic as it sounds. I was born to wander the world and repositioning my home base seems minor. The schooling is more significant.
I don't want any of my friends who read this to think that I leave blithely. It's more that I leave because the next step of my life cannot be here. I want things to go well for me wherever I am, so I don't consider leaving a success. Idealy I would leave with someone; I know I have lots to gain from learning to establish myself in a foreign place, but I would have been happy to forfeit that.
I think someday I will come back to live in a better Bay Area, maybe one where I have the power to make change. Or it may be that love or strife brings me back here; both already have. But I'd better not come back the guy I am now. I'll take the happy side, but the vanity. Insecurity, and imaturity won't fly back.
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