Dear Diary

The smell of my deodorant reminds me of Disney World, and my dedication to continually smelling my armpits is so much so that I don’t really care if other people are watching.

I got a cold this week, which stunk, but I took care of myself, so I am already better. We did a firepit Thursday night. And yesterday I only had to work a few hours, and then I helped Dad work this super fancy Derby gala. There were ice sculptures, and caviar, and monumental displays of unlimited alcohol, and celebrities in gorgeous gowns, all of which made me feel like a Sunday School girl in the nicest dress I owned. It was lovely. I got to stand right in front of the red carpet. It was the fanciest thing I’d ever been to!

What a good weekend of having an unusually minimal amount of work. I guess this is what weekends are supposed to look like. I think I enjoy free time better when I have just the right amount of it.

I spent most of this Derby Saturday off packing. It went much cleaner than I expected. It all seemed pretty manageable I suppose thanks to my careful planning, and mom’s help, and the availability of small boxes that forced me to ration my packing into chunks.

Schade came and got me and took me to lunch. We got to return to The Old Spaghetti Factory before I left after all! To my disturbance and delight, I shockingly ate everything that was put in front of me and felt no pain. It was delicious, and I had a really good time with my goose, and I’m smiling as I write this because I love him so much.

It breaks my heart a little every time I have to destroy the sacred place that is my room – but especially this time, as I believe I have finally perfected this version of it. I’ll miss my fairy lights, my candles, my dreamcatchers, and my essential oils even in this one week while my life is in boxes.

It is scary to think that next week this time I’ll be sitting in a new apartment – one that I have no picture of – in a new place with a new job and new people. Its terrifying. I always sink slightly into the cushy pool of depression when I round a corner of change in my life – even if that change is exciting.

I am going to miss Schade heartachingly so. But I am glad he has his new car and is moving back to Florida where he can be happy.

I am sitting here with my coffee as I think about how painfully I’m going to miss my family and friends, and students too, but I will be so happy to be near Heather. Life is overwhelming. My heart feels tumultuous as an ocean.

I may not be back to my journal for a little bit, as I’m about to enter my own personal hell week. Imagine working three jobs, moving from the state, and taking a trip to Chicago in the middle, all in just five days. Then imagine the next three days of orientation, moving into my new apartment, spending a day at Silver Dollar City with my family, and attending my first rehearsal.

I can’t believe that the next time I’ll be writing in this journal, I won’t be in my beautiful room in this homey white brick house that stands proudly amongst the brown houses on Wallace Avenue. I won’t be hearing the sounds of my irreplaceable and unmatchable family coming from down the stairs, including my special dog barking eternally at the TV. My life is once again, about to be totally new.

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