The last time I sat at a desk in my home was one month ago, writing you the brief Busy Bees note.
I’ve lived in a deeper state of chaos since then – first starting by packing up my life in Chicago, and culminating in me writing this note to you on a freshly purchased, well-used, oversized loveseat that’s been acting as my primary chair for the past week in Oakland.1
And gosh…it’s great. For weeks and weeks I looked forward to this. From the moment we knew we were moving west, then later, when we found our new home, it was on to the next thing. What neighborhoods would I want to live in? Where do I find a place? Incessantly, what’s this update of Craigslist got for me? 2
The wheel was constant. What did I have to figure out next?
In the past few months, I tried to force through a few of the days. There was too much to do or the energy wasn’t right, and I’d look past the moment I was in. I’d wish to be somewhere else. Hm.
A human can only be in one place at a time. So choose where you want to be. Then, be there.
It’s harder than it sounds. You’re displaced or thrown from your equilibrium, but with some time and training, you get the hang of things. Like facing a pitcher throwing gas – for the second time. 3
That chair sits in a new home in a new city with new folks I don’t yet know. In most every aspect, it’s a new life – immediately a reminder of how different my time will be.
We got here after a three-day drive that brought me closer to the place I live. If there’s anything you take away from this note, it’s this – drive across the country in the fall.
Route 80 is quite a ride. The plethora of trees, changing leaves, rolling hills, wavy plains, barren deserts, mountainous forests, and everything in between just about floored me. Each day I saw and felt just a fraction of the gift this country is. My first time, in this form.
At some point4, I decided we should start logging our journey. Nine short recordings later, there’s a living artifact of the trip. If you’re curious what a beaten man sounds like, here. Don’t worry, there’s redemption.
As worthwhile as that is to listen to, that all pales in comparison to the memories made. Becoming Uncle Bren while hanging with the Meyer family in Iowa. Feeling Pix find his comfy place in the center console on my arm. Singing Sharon amidst rock structures in Utah. The moment we realized we could do this whole thing in three days instead of four. Smiling. So much smiling.
Donna’s set-up made it possible. We went with more plants than luggage for fresh air purposes. It played exceptionally well. There were snacks upon snacks, and our best pals ensured we were well stocked. Levels and hiding spots for Pix kept him quiet and peaceful. Parents could sit in silence.5
I lost my train of thought here because, well, it’s Halloween, and trick-or-treaters came by! Literally my first time as an adult. There's a candy shortage in California, so we gave them hot chocolate.6
The cost of all this moving is twofold.
First, and very obviously, is the nearby departure from most everyone I love. My entire life was spent in a place that I’ve left. I’m very up for it, but that’s still a thing.
Just this past weekend, my folks treated me and many others with quite a time. A sendoff in their new home that called together most of the people who had the biggest influence in shaping me. Delightful, and again, I am blown away by my folks. Then. three weeks prior, another proper goodbye took place in Chicago.
Love abounds.
Second, which is less clear, but as obvious, is the toll my brain is paying. For nearly a month, I’ve sat in flux. Away from the flow of anything normal. And thus, on alert instead of taking time to rest and explore. Different days, as we all have them.
This is not to whine, but to recognize. My brain works at a fraction of its level when pushed to this state. I’m scattered, reactive, and barely remember to make time for myself. It really makes you sit and appreciate those who still perform at a high level while their world turns upside down.
A good reminder.
And in two short days, the move-in concludes. Next time you’ll read me, I’ll be at a desk, in a slightly more familiar place. Surely with more room to think. Let's all look forward to that, as long as we don't speed past our time today. No more of that.7
excitement wise, we’ve got the world cup this month. it comes with a proper amount of disgust, and a paltry amount of protest, but it’s still the world’s game on its biggest stage.
and for those of you who’ve spent any time around me, you know how much i love football. internet friends may have not yet figured this out, but you will. we will be watching intently. and we most surely will be cheering on our home yanks. go on.
tunes wise, it’s been a lot of classics, but the best of the bunch is the return to Wilco’s world-healing Yankee Hotel Foxtrot from 20 years ago. A true sendoff for my final days in Chicago. 8
Footnotes exist!
I intended to write this on the plane ride home, but alas, the 3am wakeup makes for a tired man strapped with zero coherent ideas.
I could write a course on finding a place in the Bay at this point.
Then they throw the curveball. If it bends your knees and embarasses you, figure out why, and go on. The baseball metaphor plays well.
Right after the first (and only!) time Pixel went haywire. Comparing my voice to later recordings is absolutely hilarious. A near-broken man, there.
You know, cat parents. With that said, a most joyous congratulations to our best pals in the world for their second – a mighty Italian-German northerner! Go on Augustus DeCero. Go on.
So go the perils of last-minute Showtime. We’ll do it live!
And an actual recording system for those of you listening. My ears hurt, too.
And my brother’s favorite album. Godspeed brother.
Here – No.14