It felt like weeks of birthdays. My mom took me shopping and let me pick out all sorts of houseware novelties. For the first time, I needed things like a shower caddy and my own set of microwave-safe plastic dishes. These were the accessories of young adulthood, or what Target wanted me to believe were the accessories of young adulthood. I felt exhilarated, confident, and prepared.
The day before I left, I started to feel woozy with the realization that I was leaving in hours. The backdrop of my life - the dried up South Texas town, the many people who cared for me but didn’t “get it” - was about to disappear. I’d be in a new place. My old life was a stripped stage. The space I had so deftly navigated was rearranged. New props. New cast members. New lines.
I moved to Austin after I had visited the University of Texas five times. Twice, I competed at a U.I.L. state meet. Twice, I attended another U.I.L. event. Once, I attempted a campus tour in 30 degree weather. I barely survived ten minutes of trivia before running back to the car shivering. I am such a Texan. I ended up at UT, because I decided not to go to Rice. Dollar signs pointed at a public university education. I arrived, dealt with the challenges of adjustment and competition (mostly with myself), and never regretted anything.
This next move is different. It has required so much more of an investment on my part. I’ve barely stayed afloat in a sea of paperwork, luggage, bills, and mixed emotions about moving to New York since January. Again, the realization hits me. I am about to disorient myself again. This time it’s not the next logical progression in my life. People aren’t necessarily expected to go to high school, then college, then New York City.
I expect that the first year out of college will be devastating. Gone are the days when I had so much freedom to explore my interests. Who cares if classes and assignments seemed to occasionally get in the way of my education and self-discovery? I actually liked studying. I was so blessed to go to college and work crappy but easy jobs, to write papers in my Human Sexuality on how I would tell my mate to be more sexually adventurous, to meet many different kinds of people, to become a better student and person, to overextend myself.
When I move away this time, I’ll leave another boy behind. My parents will be more nervous than before. I’ll face more responsibilities. Oh God, I’ll have my own insurance policies and retirement plan. (Am I old enough for this)? Already I sense a shuffling of priorities in my life.
I try to commit this life right now to memory; but the more I squint, the more I realize that everything has always been fuzzy. Time passes so quickly.
I realize that too late every time.
Hi Amanda! I began reading your blog because of all the things we have in common. You were very far away from NYC when you decided to move there and so am I (I live in Colorado). Going back to your first blogs you sound just how I feel. Although I don’t plan on moving for a year or two I’m very nervous about doing it. But that’s just it. I have to do it. For some unknown reason I feel that I need to move to NYC. I’m nervous about finding an apartment when I live so far away (and I will be using Craigslist too), finding a job, paying rent, and saying goodbye to my hometown. My parents are also supportive. When I told my mom my dream I was afraid she would say “good luck with that” or “how could you leave Colorado?” but instead she said I should be allowed to do whatever I want while I’m single and have no kids. Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that you did exactly what I feel I need to do, so now I know I can do it too.