Leaving on a jet plane

Or in a Penske truck. Same difference.

I leave for New Orleans on May 31st. My little brother and I are going to road trip it down there. Thinking of going coastal and staying on 95 as much as possible. I have yet to secure an apartment but have a few good leads and I am trusting in the universe that all will be well. I'll have a little less then a week to get settled in and hang out before I start training on June 9th.

I have to remember with this whole blog thing that anyone who chooses to read it can not also read my thoughts so I will take just a moment to back-up.

I am moving to New Orleans to become a high school teacher. The program I am working with will provide me training and job finding assistance over the summer and then starting in August/September I will be a real official teacher! Why New Orleans you may ask? Aren't you a pretentious east coast snob who gets mad when people don't walk fast enough? The answer to that is yes, I am. But I'm not very happy about it. Hence why New Orleans. I am looking for a change of pace, a change of life-style and the opportunity to positively impact a community that has gone through some bad times - and honestly Beacon Hill just wasn't qualifying as struggling just because of the rat problem.

I am excited to meet new people, try a new career and live in a new city. But I am also sad to leave behind friends and family I love, a job that was custom made for me and the city I have called home for 13 years.

I started this blog awhile ago not sure what to do with it...something I think is apparent in my early posts...but I am going to make an effort to use this blog to document my experiences in New Orleans, and my attempted transition from an uptight, pretentious north east professional into a laid-back, less stressed southern teacher. We'll see how it goes...

Its All Been Done...

Parents have been told. Notice has been given at work. Countdown to leaving Boston is on. I know, and I know more each day as I pack boxes and say good bye to friends and family that this part of my life is done. The life where I live as a upper class wife in Beacon Hill and drive a Mercedes and use pretension like a shield is over. It is real. It is really happening and almost everybody knows. Like the song I fell in love with when I first heard it in Pump Up The Volume (please watch if you have not as of yet) "everybody knows the boat is sinking, everybody knows the captain lied."

Once I know where I will be I will make this blog live by connecting it to something. I don't know if people will read it or not but it will be my humble attempt to stay in touch - as one sided as it is - to everyone I am leaving behind.

Turning 30

I turn 30 next week. I hadn't thought much about it, expect that people keep asking me if I am OK with it. It seems to me that I don't have much option but to be OK with it. I can't go back and re-do my twenties, even though some days I think I would like to. And I can't jump ahead and be turning 33, a birthday when no one asks you if you are "OK with it", skipping the next 3 years, even though some days I think I would like to.

So am I OK with it? I honestly don't know. I guess it kind of depends on how everything shakes out. Maybe it is better to ask me how I felt about turning 30 when I am about to turn 31.

The Waiting is the Hardest Part...

I was saying goodbye to my 3 1/2 year old niece on Sunday and when I told her I would see her three weeks she said: "Aunty that is too long."

I had forgotten how our perception of time changes. When we are young we are always in a rush to get to the next thing, or at least I was, and then as I got older, I tried to focus more on where I was right now, even as time pushed me forward into the unknown. Now as I face down turning 30, all the while waiting to hear about where I will be moving on June 1st, I feel like a kid again. Like time won't move fast enough, that having to wait two whole weeks to hear something feels like an eternity. And yet June 1st represents such an ending, such a change that I am also trying to hold onto time. Capture each walk home, each glimpse of the city, each night out with friends, each moment dancing with my niece, each moment laughing with my husband and hold onto it.

By the time I see her again I will have to tell her I am leaving. Tell her it will be awhile until she sees me again. I will promise to write her letters and send her presents and only love her more each day. But it won't be the same ever again, and even at 3 1/2 she will know that. And it breaks my heart all over again.

Fun in the Suburbs

Took a trip to West Bridgewater last night. Even the people there from other suburbs called it "the stix". A friend of mine's brother plays in a great cover band called Road Soda and they played at the Charlie Horse. We had a great time, good music, good friends. It had been a while since I had been a live show and I forgot how much fun they can be.

It was a treat to get out of the city and try to put everything behind me, even if it was just for a night. I havn't told people I am leaving yet, so as everyone talks about plans for the summer and stuff that is coming up it all feels very phoney. It sometimes feels like a lot of work to be around people.

Leaving Defined

The word itself has been making me think. Leaving. Merriam Webster tells me it is from
Old High German "verleiben" to leave and Old English "belīfan" to be left over. They both feel right.

Leaving means both departing and remaining. When words have multiple means we usually take the one closest to what we meant and stick with that. But this time I am embracing both definitions. I am leaving but part of me will be left behind. The contradiction of the word feels appropriate this time.

Leaving New England

I have lived here all my life. Grew up in Maine, moved the Boston for college in 96' and never left. Every year there is at least one day in the middle of the winter when I think "this is my last winter in Boston." I can not imagine spending one more frozen, dirty, angry winter here. But it is home. And so it is with great trepidation, fear, hesitancy and heartbreak that I have decided to leave. Destination TBD, but I know it will be somewhere warm, even though I hate the heat almost as much as I hate the cold.

Since deciding the leave I have found myself enjoying winter more this year. Walking the streets of Beacon Hill and really noticing what a unique and amazing neighborhood it is. How snow clings to the gas lanterns and kids and dogs and college students and adults all seem to come together to tie red bows around trees for the holiday season and go sledding and skating on the Boston Common. Time goes by so fast and now as the winter skies turn to a hopeful spring, the decision to leave has become all the more real. A countdown has been set. It is time to start packing bags, wrapping plates and mugs to protect them during the long journey, and take stock in what I am leaving behind - because as usually it is far more then hard winters.