I'm moving again. But I think it's okay this time. It feels alright so far, anyway. I guess I haven't had to move two work benches, a desk, two couches, a bed and a dinner table yet though...and that might change how I feel about it. I'm most heartbroken about my garden because there are a thousand green tomatoes and I am not a good enough gardener to know if they will be ready by the time I leave.
I'm going to be living with two other girls--both of them are named Emily, too! Which means, we are going to have to come up with nicknames. Em, Emmy, Emaline....there are options. I'm leaning towards Emmy or Emaline, but we'll see.
I found a beautiful grizzly bear necklace at the thrift store. He's standing on his heels and raising his arms like the bears on @natgeo do. He is also roaring. It's been funny to watch people's eyes bounce to where the bear hangs around my neck and see their double takes. I think most bears hanging on necklaces are of the teddy kind--not the grizzly.
I'm picking up TaraB from the airport tonight and I'm so excited to get to see her. It's always so nice to be around someone who has known you at so many of your changing phases. We're going to head out to Santa Barbara tomorrow morning early--early enough to miss the traffic if we can. That means five a.m., maybe four. But there is coffee on the beach and we'll come alive there.
I continue to learn so much at work. Lately I feel like journalism is exactly what I want to do. But mostly the kind of journalism that Eve Ensler writes about when she says,
I began to re-perceive the nature of my interviews, the nature of interviews in general. I began to see these encounters as sacred social contracts. I, the interviewer, could not simply take stories, events, and feelings from my subjects. I could not sit there icy and objective, absorbing. I had to be present. I had to be in dialogue. I had to be insecure. I could no longer protect myself, stand outside the stories I was hearing. I had to allow myself to feel the sadness, torture, fear, loss and particularly the courage and strength of the women I was meeting.
I spent last Saturday night working on the final (and what felt like the hundredth) revision of my critical paper for school. Although revision is hard for me, I found that a pressing deadline was great motivation to make "ruthless cuts" as my writing mentor calls them--to take out sentences and paragraphs that I'd somehow gotten attached to during the writing but that weren't good at all.
I guess that's all I have to ramble about.