Dude. I'm driving to Florida tomorrow. After spending most of this year feeling at odds with...not my environment per se, but with the untenability of my long-term existence here, as much as I wish I were from the Midwest, and could claim and love all the geeky stereotypes and post-industrial possibilities [LONG ASIDE] I'm going back home. ish. And scared, mostly about finding a job but also about the other things that go along with living somewhere, like making friends, having "hobbies"-- unless you are some JD Salinger character, who eschews hobbies for meditation and passions and a singleminded focus on using all one's cleverness to understand suffering-- I always read
Franny and Zooey and
Nine Stories during times of transition. They're the books that somehow never get packed until the last moment.
Please, if you are reading this post, participate in the following survey: Is is pronounced zoo-ey, as in the place with the animals, or zo-ey, like the somewhat common name (zoe, sometimes with an umlaut (sp?))
well, notes on the journey, after the journey. Practicing a healthy dose of worry magic.
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