November

When I was younger, I'd count down the days til LA.
189 days, 188, 187.
I'd go through exams, my day to day and hold on to the days I had left-
100, 99, 98 just 98 days more, I'd say to myself.

It was a welcome break, a while in the life I was always sure was supposed to be mine.

The last time though was a tad different.
It felt more like I was living, and not like I was just living with (or in other words, holidaying). I had mixed feelings, the last I went back.
What with all the things that had promised to come through and hadn't.
I was frustrated, impatient, torn, hurting, drained.
I didn't count down, but it'd be unfair to say that I didn't enjoy myself.
Because I did, very much.

80, 89, 88, 87, 86
I am worried.
Because there's a lot to do at work, it hardly feels like I can leave.
There are programs that will run, and that will be in the planning.
I don't think it's fair to throw people a wobbly and have them clear the mess,
And I'm not doing that because this has been in the plan,
But,
I wish I could help a bit more.

At the same time,
There's an entire To Do list set for my doing while I'm over there.
I'm enrolled in The Acting Corps and will start my course four days after touching down in LA.
I will get my driving sorted, fix up all the things that need to be fixed up.
A lot of it is prepping,
A lot of it is real.

I am a mix of excitement and trepidation.
80, 79, 78, 77 days
It's different this year. I won't have that Christmas Party I have every year without fail,
And Bird won't have hers either.
About the holiday seasons, I cannot even begin to think about how it makes me feel.

On one hand, I've always loved the feel of Christmas round the corner.
Wherever I am actually, because it reminds me of LA.
The smells, the vibe, the sounds, the feel.
And when I'm there and doing my Christmas shopping, it is pure unadulterated joy.
The bustle, the everything.
The everything.
Sometimes it feels like I'm so happy, what with the cold in my nose and the christmas smells all caught up in my hair, so happy that I might actually cry.

"Might wanna rethink where we'll be in the long run." Mommy said to me the other day.
I don't know.
I don't know what to feel.

76,75, 74 days-
For the most part, I'm excited.
But there's a lot of meaning tied in. The stepping into, the carving out.
73, 73 days.

For the first time, I'm wondering about what I'd be missing out on,
And not just with work, although that is one indeed.
I'm wondering about what I'm leaving behind, and all the things that will/will not, may/may not happen.

It's strange because,
Before even boarding the plane, I'm turning round and looking behind me.
72 days,
72 days.