trænˈzɪʃ ən

My grandma's old house in Michigan. Basically nothing to do with this post, but it's nostalgic.

I'm not afraid of change. I actually really enjoy change. I embrace the adventure that comes with change. I hate being in one place or doing one thing for too long--I like the challenge and newness that comes with change.

It's transition that gets to me. 

I hate waiting to get from phase A to phase B. The up-in-the-air moments when you're still not sure if your plan is going to go through, or if it's going to fall through.

Currently, I've got two plans that are up in the air. Suspended by dental floss. Ready to come crashing down at any moment.

One: I could be going to Dallas this weekend. I should be going to Dallas this weekend. I'm supposed to be helping my closest, longest-held friend move there for her first big-girl job, but her employer called her yesterday and said they might push her start date back two weeks, leaving her in Dallas for a month without a paycheck. But we won't know for sure until Friday, when we're supposed to be leaving at 3 am Saturday. Can you say #frustrated? 

Two: I'm moving into an apartment in 14 days. That's two weeks! And I have so little packed and so little ready to go. I have to disassemble my bed and buy a mattress and my cousin still has to get a job (knock on wood--she almost has one!) and there's just so much to do, but I don't want to/can't pack a ton because I have to use my toiletries and wear my clothes and use my computer and stuff. So what even am I supposed to be packing? It's a bit stressful.

So in this frustrating state of transition, I'm kicking back. Listening to Kendrick Lamar. Realizing it's gonna be alright and that there's literally nothing I can do about any of it.

*update: as I was writing this post, news came through that her start date is remaining the same and I'm going to Dallas this weekend. TRAVEL STOKE!