2005-05-09 || 8:36 a.m.

|| the mind of a monster ||

finally finally it's starting to creep in.
yesterday becky and i were sitting on the back porch a minute before it started raining again, and i was thinking of what i will get brian for his birthday. i thought of a good gift, finally. and it's not an attache case for his jewel collection. it is, i hope, equally speckle-tacular. we shall see. but i was thinking of this present, which i am unable to discuss here where ol' murphy's sure to read, and it made me bust out crying.
how does it work? this is why i don't make the drastic changes: i am moving and it will be lovely. we got what i imagine to be a delightful apartment. i get to live with michael bland. everything will be new and exciting and i will walk under the most beautiful trees at night and we will get breakfast at diners on weekday mornings. however: i am leaving behind the most amazing cabinet of people. no matter what kind of fierce pen pal i am to my brian, which i plan on being, complete with grandma-approved care packages and the most breathtaking handmade stationary, we won't be as close as we are now. i won't know what goes on day to day, and i can't bark at him to sit with me on the porch on the evenings of his days off. i won't get to be owen's sidekick and do the things we do that no one else would want to, like sitting around downtown berkeley in the afternoon drunk from the whiskey we snuck into our soda at a matinee and fake-fighting in the coffee place on shattuck. and there's becky. and sara. and jason. and and and.
i know i'm not losing them, but. it'll be different. i've gotten very cozy over the past nine years (!) here. (would very much like to now present the flashback recap sitcom episode showing all the good times.)
i'm not letting myself get sad about it. instead i am getting bitchy about the landlady's lack of courtesy and how much cleaning there is to do and how many books i have to move and the price of gas which becomes considerable when making the berkeley to portland trek back and again two times in two weeks. i am going to be a monster. i will gladly bite your head off instead of blubbering all over the place about how bloody much i'm going to miss you.

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