I'm excited to be on the move.

Plane tickets have been purchased and a subletter found. Come June 1st I will be back to living out of a bag. Come June 7th, I will begin heading West. By the 14th I should be settling in the State of Jefferson.

My worrying side is unnerved by the way in which ramblin' comes so natural, feels so right. I'm starting to feel my age a bit, and I wonder if/when I'll evern be able to settle down. I joked a bit about this during Vagabender, that my life might become like a cheezy metallica song (anywhere I roam / where I lay my head is home), or the like. There's a long line of history there...

I love you baby
but you gotta understand
when the Lord made me
he made a ramblin' man

I'm excited by change. I can't help it. I'm an explorer by heart. My thirst for new experience and sensation seems insatiable. I don't think these are bad qualities, I just wonder how I can configure things so that I can start building a bigger pile of life-assets.

Maybe I'm being too square about the whole thing, and what I really need to do is Reclaim the Dignity of my Own Experience. Maybe what I need is to stop fucking second-guessing things so much. I'm a ways out from art school, but that work we did on judges, cops-in-the-head, and the poisonous nature of the word "should" is ringing strong lately.

In my last lifey post, I was struggling with the career choice dichotomy, and the upshot was that I have to forge forward without compromising. That felt right, and I even think I'm beginning to see what that could mean practically. The wider question of where I'm living and who I'm associating with is a little more ticklish.

This never ends, really. Oh, the joy of first-world problems.