Apr. 30th, 2004

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The story of my epic and frequent childhood, (and later, adult,) relocations, is, while extensive, fairly tedious going, and so we will leave it aside. Suffice it to say that I have moved any number of times, starting when I was four, mostly between cities and sometimes between countries, and this has left me with a general estrangement from my surroundings, wherever those (presumably impermanent) surroundings may be. It has also turned me into a cliched pseudo-nomad, in that I'm constantly on the move but the motivation for that moevement is a powerful and vague hope that I will someday find someplace that feels like home. (Sometimes I hum the theme to "The Rifleman.") As a result, I promise myself with every move that this time, this time, the move is permanent - or at least better than here, which has already let me down. (You might say I have geographical intimacy issues.)

To hedge my bets, I also promise myself that I will get better and shinier friends because I will reinvent myself as a less brittle and more interesting person once I am freed from the baggage of past expectations. The fact that this has never yet happened fails to move me in any way; I retain a full and unshakeable belief in the potential of the future!

So, anyway, I'm going to move to Austin in a couple of months, and I'm pretty excited. I think it could work, and even if it doesn't, I'll have a few months of thinking it can work, which is better than what I've got going now.

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