Rockabye

As I just wrote in an email to Rachel, I'm so homesick I might die. Not literally. Anyone who knows me knows I'm prone to hyperbole. I'm just really, really, REALLY homesick. If you offered me a plane ticket home right now, I'd take it, consequences be damned. I guess it's a good thing I get jobs in expensive plane ticket areas of the US, because I always cope. I always feel horrible for the first ten days after a move, and then I always get over it. And then I love the place/job/situation I'm in. I KNOW that's what happens. I know this wretched feeling won't last. You'd think that would help me through these rough times, but it doesn't. California feels farther from home than Alaska or Hawaii. Is it because this is the real deal, job-wise? Not an internship or a school semester with a set ending date? Do I feel like I'm trapped here? I'm not. I KNOW I could leave anytime. But I'll get over it. And then I'll feel great again. I always do.

Some horrible part of me worries that maybe this is the real thing. Maybe this is the time I don't snap out of it.

But no, it'll be OK. Like the song goes, "everything's gonna be alright."

I feel like I hold the world record for failure to leave the nest.