Whenever you move from one place to another, there’s that period of time you have to take in order to really get used to living in your new place. I remember when I moved from my parents’ house to my apartment. The time it took for me finally get comfortable was just under a week. I moved from that apartment to a condo with Stephanie, and it took me two weeks to finally get comfortable enough with the place to go out and do stuff. Following our separation, I moved THREE times in under a month, and of course, by the time I moved into my room at the old Otaking compound, I don’t think I broke out of the post-move funk for a month. Following moving out to my Grandmother’s house and now into my own place again, I cannot shake the post-move blues. I haven’t written much, the routine I had every Monday and Tuesday night has ceased, and I haven’t seen friends of mine since I moved. It’s starting to snowball into a bigger depression.
So, in an effort to break myself out of the funk and into a more active role, next Monday, I have decided to go on a road trip where the destination is a hell of a lot more fun than having to help someone move. Most of this week had been devoted to helping my sister pack up her entire house and stuff it into a single truck for her move to Wyoming. She (used to) live in Manteca, and that’s about 1.25 hours away (if I’m driving). This coming week, though, I’ll be spending three days and two nights in Beaverton, Oregon. My reason for heading up there are four-fold. 1) I’ll be meeting some people I’ve known for years, like
