From the moment I turned three years old, I knew I did not belong in Illinois. So much so that I started a "Get the Hell Out of Illinois Fund", that was literally a Nike shoebox with a sign that read as such when I was twelve. At twenty, at the demise of my attempt at a college career, I shipped myself off to NYC for a taste of whatever life had to offer. Looking back on my year of NY residency, I don't think I learned much except how much I loved New York City and how to hold my liquor..
When the money I was blowing at the theatre every week finally ran out, I moved back to Illinois with a little bit of relief and a lot of remorse. I've been here since. Though I periodically have visited New York and have entertained the idea of moving back, I got trapped by some things Illinois had to offer. Love - I fell in love and into a three year relationship. I actually remember uttering the words "I don't need New York when I've got him". Gross. Then I got trapped by friends and a great job after the relationship thing didn't work out. And after that, I found the thing that kind of filled in all the little cracks in my life. Except my ass crack and my crack habit. Improv. Comedy. Whatever. That's kept me in Chicago for the past year and a half. And now that I feel my time in Chicago's comedy community has come to an end, I'm returning to my first ever love; NYC.
With more of a life plan and less of a healthcare plan, I am definitely moving back to New York City in exactly two weeks. I'm not terrified, I'm not excited. It just feels like time. Time to work my life around a career I've only recently discovered I want to truly make work. Pun? Maybe.
So, with a move in place and hardly anything packed, my brain is more ready than my physical person.
But my brain's been in a very funny place lately. Not funny ha-ha. Funny like... whaaaaaaa?. I've started getting nostalgic for sensations. Not for moments or memories or people. Just sensations. I don't exactly know how to explain this, but I'll try to explain it in the dorkiest way possible.
Lately I've been listening to a lot of Barry Manilow. If you know me or you've been around for a while, you'll know that Manilow has been an indelible influence on my life. I'm not a musical person, nor do I have any aspirations to be. I just had a sometimes shitty childhood (who hasn't? not all of it. jeez.) and it was all aligned with a Manilow soundtrack. I guess I kind of hid in his music in a way. Not literally. You idiot.
So I've been listening to all this music lately and it's taking me to an almost uncomfortable and unidentifiable nostalgia. Though I love it, I'm feeling sad.
Maybe this is because I'm about to move away from all of my friends and family? Maybe this is because I'm stressed? Maybe the moon left an imprint in my face? Maybe I just need extensive therapy?
I don't know which of those it is, but it's really taking a wonderful/awful toll on me.
Anyway, I'm hanging out with my mom until after Memorial Day weekend, when the real packing will commence. If you'd like to see how the move is progressing, you're welcome to follow along on my YouTube channel where it's all going down. Actually the past few posts have just been a bit of babble, but I am chronicling this move through my subseries on YouTube, so if you're there so am I.
Oh look, a link that takes you directly to my channel in another window.
Technology is cool.
Just an update for your facepieces.
Something interesting next time, I promise.
Be well or don't.
Byeeee.
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