"It is a fabulous place: when the tide is in, a wave-churned basin, creamy with foam, whipped by the combers that roll in from the whistling buoy on the reef. But when the tide goes out the little water world becomes quiet and lovely." -Cannery Row, John Steinbeck (Above photo taken July 19 in Monterey)

Living is about transition periods, about allowing ourselves to move--whether it be physically, from location to location, or figuratively, from state of mind to state of mind. I suppose I've gotten used to moving, what with the yearly apartment changes while in college. What I haven't gotten used to, however, is that feeling of uncertainty and anxiety that comes with the unknown. It's both exciting and terrifying: I will either fail or succeed--and I've definitely done my share of both.

In less than two weeks, I will leave California, the only state I've ever called home. It feels surreal. This is what I wanted though, right? It's what I talked about wanting to do for years: move to the east coast and pursue the career I never thought I would have, the career I'd given up on months ago and only just re-embraced. It feels too new still, too fresh and unsteady. But this is what I've said I wanted to do, and here it is--finally happening! And I am genuinely shocked.

The idea of starting a new life away from everyone I know makes my heart race and my muscles tense. The numerous "what ifs" keep me awake at night, and though I know the "what if" game is pointless and dumb, I can't help but stare at the ceiling in the dark and wonder all of these things. This move feels like college again but, this time, everything is bigger and if I fall flat on my face, it will be even grander and more spectacular than I've ever experienced.

I'm confident though that things will work out. After all, it took nearly three years in Irvine for things to "work out." I just have to have patience.

A lot of people I know are entering new stages of their lives as well: new places, new families, new careers. We are all transitioning. I won't be alone, despite the miles of distance that separate us all.

This entry is more "dear diary"-like than I'm used to, so forgive me. But grow with me, folks. We've got a lot of living to do.