I am going to a huge church singles activity tomorrow night. I plan on dancing myself silly. The stake organizes this activity every fall. Hundreds of people come, maybe close to 1,000. It’s a huge barbecue and an opportunity to meet new people. Some go with the expectation of getting dates, finding someone they’ll eventually marry. Marriage and family are main components of the church. I wasn’t anti; probably more blasé. Now my thoughts are that I do want to get married and raise children and be a noble mother like the noble mothers I know. (Yes, I’m talking about you. And you.) This is not exactly what the activity is about for me, though if I met someone it would be a nice bonus. I’m excited to be dancing and goofing off with friends. After I cut the rug, I will hand out the pieces as party favors.
My dad is moving to Oklahoma by November 1. He left me a voicemail last night. I wish I had the energy to provide backstory right now. We never communicated well while I was growing up. (I mean as a youngster and adolescent. In many ways I am still “growing up.”) I’ve left a few boxes and some clothes at the house where I lived before I took off for college. He wants to know what he should do with them. That was the gist of the message: He’s moving, and he doesn’t know what to do with my stuff. I appreciate that he called though. I know he wouldn’t have thrown the boxes away without asking me.
My best friend is engaged and is moving to Utah in two months. Nearly all the times I’ve mentioned difficult relationships and struggles with understanding and communication in this journal reference my best friend here in the city. We have come to a really deep and respecting understanding of each other in the past few months; we’ve only known each other about a year and a half. She got engaged three weeks ago. I’ve watched the whole courtship go down with the viewpoint of a best friend, and during the beginning stages of their relationship I am sorry to admit that I felt threatened and inadequate. Now, I’m utterly thrilled for her happiness. I’m throwing her a shower. She’ll be gone soon to start a new phase of her life. I’ll miss her somethin’ ferocious.
I’ll be moving in with roommates November 1. This means I’ll be giving notice to the person subletting my apartment to me by October 1. I hate moving. I’ve never felt loathing in my life as it relates to packing and transporting things to a different residence only to unpack what’s symbolic of opening Pandora’s box. Then, I can only wait for the chaos to settle. I’ll rant another time about leaving a community I’ve grown to love so much. It’s time to sacrifice, though; I’ve got to get moving toward what I want to do with my life.
I’ll be visiting folks in Florida sometime in November. This is simply because I don’t like traveling during the holidays, and I need to visit family sometime that isn’t Christmas or Thanksgiving. Plus, October is too busy and I’m already traveling in December, and I’d like not to have to worry about going anywhere until after I move.
My best friend who is engaged and moving to Utah in two months is getting married in December. I’ll be heading out there to attend her wedding. I love weddings. I always cry. I see how extremely happy my friend is and I can’t even imagine not wanting to support her. I’m meeting her fiancé at the end of October. Also, I’ll be meeting a gentleman I’ve been exchanging emails and chatting with after I see my friend off to the greatest happiness of her life. He has a sister in the town where my friend’s wedding is, so we’re planning on going snowshoeing. Maybe cross-country skiing. I’m trying not to think about it too much. A date? More than three months away? It would be so easy to drive myself crazy, but I’m not going to let that happen. I hope.
The rest of the year is going to kick my ass. Knowing there is a purpose, whatever it is, for all of this comforts me.
