Reading Day

I've decided to spend the better part of today curled up with a book. I haven't done that in a while.

When i'm not obsessing about graduation, loan repayments, the big move, transportation, potential job, or the internship, i'm passed out on my bed from too much thinking and too much packing.

There is a little part of me that is obsessive. Once i get a thought, i won't stop thinking about it until i have come to some sort of conclusion. This can be a good thing and a bad thing. When i have a story idea it's fun to spend all day creating it in my head. I put on some music, grab a notebook and pen and write the whole day. But when i worry about things, those thoughts can just get plan exhausting. I've been doing a lot of worrying lately over trivial and minor things which is giving me a headache.

Yesterday my mom had a day off, and we spent the whole day running around town. We got more boxes for me to put stuff in, and my aunt called and said she was uber excited about me staying with her. She even cleaned up the room that i will be staying in (which if you've seen this mess of a room you'd know how big of a challenge it was for her to clear it out).

Every one seems more excited about this move than i am. My mom thinks I'm fearless. Debbie Downer called me brave. Maire once said i was lucky to be moving so close to the city. I don't feel like any of those things. I feel a little nervous, with a dash of apprehension mixed with a crap load of longing....for things to stay just as they are.

I don't feel like that all the time. Just 15% of the time, usually when I'm applying for a job, packing things up, or listening to the quietness of small town, U.S.A. I'm wondering if all the small and delicate luxurious that i have taken for granted will be stripped from me. My mom says that you make a home for yourself any where you go, and those delicate moments won't end unless i stop making the time for them.

She's right i know. But i still worry.

After a long day yesterday, i decided that the next two days will be mine (sans obsessive packing or over thinking). My mom found this wicked awesome author in the New York Times. His name is Chris Adrian, and i don't even know how to explain his work. He's a doctor/priest in training/author, which is an electic mix if you ask me. He writes unique (which has become so cliche i hate using it) stories that i could have never conceived in a million years. Children are usually the protagonist or a central theme to his work followed by these mystical, macabre themes.

We found his two published novels in the library, and so far they are both a good read. I made an caramel apple bar yesterday(because apparently I've become quite a baker in the last three weeks), and have updated my Sufjan Stevens playlist for the day long reading fest.

I'm my biggest distraction these days and feel a good book, a tasty dessert, and my future husband singing good tunes while calm me.