au revoir...

I’ve never been especially good at saying goodbyes. You would think I’d be better, having been raised an Army brat. I spent most of my childhood being the New Kid in one school or other, and that meant saying goodbye to the kids at the previous school. So you would think that by this stage of my life I’d have it down to a science.

Still, I found myself struggling when it came time to say goodbye to JT. We met about almost a year and a half ago when a friend brought her to my birthday dinner at Chico’s. In her I immediately found a kindred spirit: we laughed at the same jokes, finished our sentences the same way, even sharing certain “beverage preferences.”

When I was hired on the front desk of the hotel where she was front office manager, the bond only grew stronger as we spent most of our time on the clock together. Eventually, a bunch of us started spending our free time together, and our status as mutual besties was sealed.

Recently JT reconnected with someone from her past, and she decided to move to Florida to be with him. As happy as I am for her, I’m going to miss the shit out of her. I know that I’ll get to see her again (I’m planning on flying down in October for her birthday), but it still sucks knowing she’s not on the other side of town. It was a comfort knowing that I could stop by her job and say hey, or we could meet up after work for a Sea Of Sangria at Chico’s.

Since she left Greenville early this morning, she stopped by the hotel last night to say goodbye to me. As I hugged her, I could feel the telltale lump forming in my throat. My eyes started to prickle, and I knew I was seconds away from a good healthy, heart-broken cry. But we’d promised each other “no tears” so I had to man up and dig my nails into the palms of my hands. I was actually doing okay at keeping the tears at bay until we walked away from each other. I made the crucial error of looking back over my shoulder in time to see JT walking out the door. The sight of her red curls bouncing behind her as she walked out was just too much. I choked out something about “needing a minute” to my coworker, and found a quiet corner to cry into.

Eventually I got myself under control, but it all reminded me of when I was a kid moving around all the time. All over again, I felt myself being separated from something familiar and it hurt like hell. There are two comforts that I have that I didn’t when I was a kid. For one thing, we didn’t have Facebook back then. Thanks to the wonders of the interweb, I can keep up with her in a way that I never could with my childhood friends. Second, I’ll be seeing her again in less than two months. I think I can manage without her physical presence for that long. I just don’t want to have to.

Project Exodus

Sometimes the clues are all around you, all you have to do is act on them. All day, I’ve been feeling especially optimistic. Maybe the glowing mood had to do with money actually being in my pocket, or maybe it was due to the gorgeous weather. No matter the inspiration, I was in fine spirits as I walked through downtown Greenville.

I was sitting in Sup Dogs (one of my favorite places to eat and chill), idly screwing around online, when the manager Derek came up to speak to me. Last week, he’d come in to the restaurant where I work on a date and sat in my section. The meal went fine and he was very complimentary about my server skills. This afternoon, he mentioned again how good a server he’d found me to be. As if he’d been reading my mind, he said that I should consider moving to a larger city to pursue the money someone with my personality could make. While I doubt I’d ever relocate to follow a food service job (not really my passion, ya dig?) the idea of moving to pursue my writing career has been haunting my mind a lot lately. Every once in a while I’ll casually look into the idea—researching job opportunities, checking out public transportation, etc.—then get caught up in living my life and forget about it for a while.

But this time it feels different. I was skyping with a friend who lives in Durham the other night and the subject came up. Every time Mark says something about me moving to the Raleigh/Durham area, it’s like the seed grows just a little bit larger in my mind. I’ve talked it over with him before, not to mention with my best friend from high school. Knowing I’d be living in close proximity to Sheon and Mark would give me something of an advantage. I’d have friends already in place, so while I may be the New Kid in Town, I doubt I’d be alone and lonely.

It seems a bit ironic to speak of safety nets, since that’s why I moved back to Greenville in the first place. I was living in Florida, and having a truly rough time of things. So I packed my proverbial bags and headed home to Carolina. But I’ve allowed that safety net to engulf me, and I’ve become stuck.

Today was the day I became unstuck. After talking to Derek (and killing 1½ Western Dogs, fries, and a couple of dollar beers) I mulled over the idea of leaving this place that’s become my home. I looked around 5^th Street, wondering what it would be like to call another place home. I let my fingers trace over the brick façade of 5^th Street Annex and questioned whether I could say goodbye to everything I’ve known for the past six years. As I wiped the slight traces of grit off my fingers, the answer came to me in the form of the bumper sticker on a passing car: “Yes We Can!” Whoa.

I spent a couple of hours in the library, writing and using the city’s free wifi. When I realized how late it had gotten, I headed through the lobby to wait for the bus. I figured I had a few minutes, so I just lingered in the AC and read the public announcements board in the lobby. It was littered with ads for pitbull puppies, and translation services. Then, in a corner of the board I saw it. It was plain, almost covered by the plastic cover of the thermostat someone had carelessly left open. When I read the words across the top I flinched as if I’d been shocked by a mild electrical charge. My face felt hot and the skin on the back of my neck prickled with awareness. Okay, Lord, I get it. Message received. Ten-four, Lord.

So, what you’re reading now represents a new beginning. This blog represents the genesis of Project Exodus. I’m giving myself six months to save money, plan, and eventually move to Raleigh. Hell, maybe I’ll consider a different city altogether. All I do know is that this is the only life we get, and if I’m going to advise people to follow their passions, I’d better be doing it myself.