Never My Strong Suit

Yeah, it's cliche.

Yeah, it's tired out.

Yeah, everyone says it.

But I've never been good at saying goodbyes.

The problem is that my longtime obsession with film has left me with a permanent disability, one in which I have a tendency to picture things in my head with a movie-like quality to them. Things get dramatic and epic and completely unrealistic.

Therein lies my problem with goodbyes.

I imagine them way beforehand coming off perfectly.

I say all the right things, they say all the right things, and the laws of physics are defied with each party riding off into the sunset separately.

Only it never happens that way.

Instead, my knack for awkwardness comes out in force and I usually find myself lucky to just walk away without tripping over my feet.

So, I found myself really dreading the goodbyes before leaving.

And I did not plan for it very well.

In addition to all the goodbye-ing to do during that last week, I basically left everything else too. All my packing, all my last minute purchases, all my banking, all the boxing and sorting of remaining things to be saved or sold.

That is, to say, it was Very Typical Me.

I find I work best under pressure. Or so I will continue to tell myself up until the day I die (which will probably also be stressful because I will have left so many things to do then as well...)

So, in the last week, on top of all the other tasks, I had to say goodbye to dozens of co-workers, friends, and family.

Maybe that's the best way for me to make sure to say goodbyes. Load up on all other responsibilities. Leave myself with so little time that I can't possibly dramatize it. Postpone it all until the last possible second, leaving myself no other out. No more excuses. I can't delay a goodbye by choosing to pack. And I can't put off packing so I can say goodbye. Just turn the whole damn thing into a 24-Hour, Last Minute, Bust-Your-Ass-To-Get-It-All-In Free For All.

That being said, it worked pretty well this time.

...

You ever have one of those moments where you step back to really look at yourself and think, "Man, I really have matured..."?

...

Me neither.

282 Days

It has been 282 days since I last wrote anything on here.

Does that make the blog dead?

I don't know.

I hope not.

I've been wanting to write on here but nothing has come for a long time. It was a long nine months while home in America. I worked a lot and stressed a lot and didn't do a lot of anything else.

Now I'm trying to get back in the habit of having some time to do things I want. It's a bit of a stranger to me. I am well aware that more practice would make this all come easier. But I seem to struggle to find anything good to say.

The past nine months left me a bit braindead. I'm not quite sure what happened, but at some point over the winter, some connectors that joined my brain with my fingers and tongue seemed to have been a bit corrupted. I had trouble finding things to say to family and friends and had nothing to write. Even now, I feel thoughts there in the background, but they are hazy at times.

Hmm... This all sounds very dramatic. It's just frustrating, that's all.

I need to write more. That's all there is to it. More writing will free things up, shake my brain loose.

All I know is this...

I worked hard. I'm here. I'm happy.

More to come later.