A Month Deep

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I left San Diego County, California one month ago today. As the Pacific Ocean and Torrey pines of San Elijo Hills grew smaller in the car’s rearview mirror, I thought to myself:

This is it.

I dig that this insignificantly significant milestone falls on Turkey Fest’s post-mortem 24. I’m satiated from leftovers (because Thanksgiving dinner no matter where in the world I reside). Åstorp House is peaceful. There’s good juju that’s happened in my first month of “this is it,” and much of it has been the actualization of what seemed impossible.

  1. My brain is finally quieting (this is an ongoing process). I’m focused. Interestingly enough, my handwriting has improved in the past week. I’ve slowed down and my penmanship reflects that, or so I tell myself.
  1. I’m proud to have not consumed alcohol in five days. For me, it establishes an authenticity to anything I’ve created, worked through, or written recently. I wasn’t seeking to not drink; it just happened. However, if cheating on Sauvignon Blanc with the SodaStream is a means to proving to myself that I’m as strong as I thought, so be it. With that said, bring on Fredagsmys and a fat Höganäs APA.
  1. I’m acutely aware that I don’t operate well in constant chaos.
  1. I feel the pull to travel and write as, like, a thing. Everything I need I have with me; why not keep going while I’m already on my way?
  1. There’s a structure to Sweden that I craved, and only by being here have I realized its necessity. The unfamiliar has kept me obedient to myself. The shrew, for now, is being tamed.

Now if I could just stop butchering the Swedish language…

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