Outta Here...

So "The Great Exodus" from Saskatoon occurred on Sunday and between my studio junk and my suite we had the cube van packed to the gills. Good thing Dad is an engineer and is adept at spacial reasoning - he packed that truck like he was playing Tetris.

So was it New Order or Joy Division who sang "Isolation?" Methinks it is the later, I've been humming it all day as I've been thinking of all my friends, and my brother, far away in Saskatoon. That is one part of moving cities that I really don't like - leaving fantastic relationships behind. I certainly won't miss the ungrated roads in the winter though - I got out just in time.

It is really good that I moved when I did though. I had toxic black mold in my suite and have been sick for months. Now I'm recovering, putzing around setting up my stuff, dealing with life after being institutionalized in school, and winding down. It is so good to hang out with family, I didn't realize how much I missed them until I came back.

Moving is a kind of soft trauma isn't it? All one's earthly possessions packed tightly in boxes and bags serve as a reminder of one's transience and mortality. Being "settled" is a fallacy and "movement" is a constant.

I've only been gone a few days and I'm already feeling the sting of missing my friends.