Moving.

I have my first interview tomorrow. I’m interviewing for positions in Los Angeles and leaving the town where I grew up again. I left for grad school, but now I’m really leaving. And the best part is I’m going to be surrounded by the kind of people who get it. Nathaniel and Michael get it, but no one else does. I find it so interesting that I spend an ounce of time in California and realize it’s where I’ve gotta be again. I hated it years ago when I was trapped at that catholic college, but now I’m 24, two degrees wiser, and ready to move the fuck on with my life. I have no advice to give on moving, even though I’ll have done it four times come August. The only interesting thing about moving is the anticipation leading up. It’s a feeling adjacent to starting a new school as a kid and wondering who will want to be your friend. It’s exciting and it is terrifying? The question mark indicates that I began this entry two weeks ago, dropped it, and am just now picking it back up in the middle of that sentence. It’s funny realizing you’re making the right move even if it hurts people. Whether it hurts them in a way that is obvious (like a breakup), or in small ways they won’t admit (like your best friend who's far too tough to ever tell you she will miss rotting in bed with you laughing at borderline offensive Instagram reels), it’ll hurt someone. But despite their hurt, I’m still excited. Giddy even. Doesn’t mean I don’t love them; I just love myself too. The people in Los Angeles are odd birds, but I am as well. And they like me already. Moving doesn’t have to be this big ‘pit in my stomach’ kind of thing. It can be gradual and easy. That is exactly what this move feels like. Like all the years I spent saying “ew, Los Angeles”, or “I’d never live in Los Angeles”, or calling it ‘Tinsel Town’ are all now just obvious excuses for why I wasn’t there yet. And now, as I cross the two-month finish line that is leaving Dublin, I’m almost there. All good things, all gonna be alright.