It has been a hellish couple of weeks, let me tell you. I finally made a decision regarding my job--I'll be headed back to NY to teach--which, upon the actual decision making, simultaneously ceased all anxiety I was experiencing and produced a whole new fresh crop of worry to deal with. I think, in the end, this position is better for me for a multitude of reasons, first and foremost being that it gets me out of Boston, a place that I've come to despise with every fiber of my being over the past two or three years. That aside, the program I'll be teaching in itself is just incredibly dynamic, very hands on (which we all know I love), and very different from what I've been teaching in (which means a fantastic opportunity for me to decide if this is something that I may want to make my life's work). Also, did I mention there's the opportunity to teach a CREATIVE writing class?

So for the past three days I've been waking up at 6 a.m. to pack up as many of my belongings as possible. You never realize how much stuff you've accumulated until you have to sift through it. Photos, pieces of paper with cryptic writing splashed across the front, receipts (I have no idea why I keep these for longer than three months), more gym socks than I can count, books, clothes, the list is endless and completely and totally random. Occasionally, I come across something that reminds me of a day or event, and lose precious packing minutes as I get lost in the memories.

The more I think about it, the more I wish I had done more. I wish I had gone to Shakespeare in the Park, walked the Freedom Trail, and gone to more saint Feasts. I wish I had learned to surf earlier (more about that in another entry), and I wish I had done more summer and winter outdoor activities. I wish I hadn't let the bitterness of living in the city taken over the pure joy of the little moments Boston has to offer. I wish that I had been better friends with some of the people I am leaving behind, wish I had realized their potential and depth a little more and not been so afraid of their "motives." I wish I had laughed more, and cried less. I wish that I had appreciated Boston for the history and culture it possess.

I am sad to be leaving, but happy to be going.