I recently came to realize an impressive fact about myself: in the next month, I will have moved 9 times over the last 14 months. NINE. TIMES. Not one.. not two.. but NINE. That's an average of 1.55555 moves per month.
Well, one of them (the one in late June a.k.a Move #6) was only a half move, but it involved me carrying my cat Frank and a few loads of other high-priority shit to a distant location and staying there with it for about a month, so I think that warrants it as a bona fide "move". I'm fuggin' sick of this traveling circus bollogg-na. Fed up. Had it. I hate to sound like such a pissy, moany whiney little bitch over moving so much, but hey, you do it Buddy! It's no cup of tea. After a while you start to wish everything you owned was made out of Legos so you could at least take it all apart and make it more portable... And then make different cool stuff when you moved into your new place.
Fact: Exactly 8 days ago, I just received a crispy fresh and new MN drivers license in der mail with what was my "new" address on it at that time. And now, 1 week later, I never would have guessed back then - but that is now suddenly my old address. When I get a new license from now on, I'll just save a step in the process by immediately cutting one of its corners off and carrying around a folded yellow piece of paper, no matter how confident I feel about where I'm living.
I've moved so much that when I go to renew my license, they know me on a first name basis and ask how my cat is. I've moved so much that I'm considering buying enough luggage to accommodate every belonging I have. I've moved so much that perhaps someday I will have my own zip code. I don't really get much mail these days as a result of all this moving, which I guess is one of the better side effects.
So. Recent events made me realize I ain't no dummy and am not about to be taken for one whether it's intentional or not, so onward and outward I had to go. Yesterday marked Move #8; all of my stuff back to Mom and Dad's (thank gawd for them) until I soon move into my own place which will = Move #9. This will be a good thing, because if things aren't going well with myself, I can't necessarily tell me that I need to move out. Well, I could, but then no one would be there and I'd be paying rent for no real reason at all.
My sister a.k.a. Lisa and my father a.k.a. Dad helped this time around. We went cavalcade-style to Move Location #7 and in transit we came to a point on I94 where the flow of traffic significantly decreased in speed. I heard this sound from behind us: SCREEEEEEEEEEEAK! Whose vehicle was it fishtailing and pert near rear-ending my pop's minivan? My lovely sister's. Yaaaay! Ironically, Dad's van already has a dent on the back of it from accidentally bumping into her car a while ago. What a silly coinky-dinky that would have been! I guess Leese was a little too preoccupied admiring the handiwork of a fucker... er, I mean guy who changed lanes as if he were blindfolded and wearing headphones. But I thank you, sister - that gave me the adrenaline charge of 2 cups of coffee and I didn't even have to leave anyone a tip. Not to mention the phone call I got seconds later from her was priceless: "OH MY GOD MICHAEL I JUST SHIT MY PANTS!" HA! That's what I'm talkin' about. When you pick up the phone and hear those words, you know that either a) something totally awesome just happened or b) somebody needs to cut back to just one bowl of Colon Blow cereal per day.
If you've ever wanted to know how many moves it takes until it simply becomes second nature, 8 is the answer, I reckon. I can move like mechanics can change tires in the Indy 500.
All things considered, although this move was emotionally one of the least fun of them all, it has unexpectedly empowered me - unlike Move #6, which did exactly the opposite. This is mainly because I know I'm not nuts (at least in the scary, bad way). Move #7 was a good one, as I was under the impression that it was to be my permenant residence. Moves #4 and 5 weren't too shabby either, but it's moving nonetheless. And nearly anything will drive you nuts if you do it enough. Well. Almost anything…
I have come to realize that there has been one giant enemy causing the bulk of these moves, and that enemy is Circumstance. With that in mind, allow me to say this: Dear Circumstance: Fuck you. You ain't getting the best of me no mo. It's time for me to pick up and get back to doing what I excel at: being a happy-go-lucky dude that plays weird geetar music and plays it well. Sheesh, listen to me sounding all Dr. Phil an' shit. But it's true though!
In closing, if you're reading this and planning on moving in the near future, sure - you can ask for my help. But you better either run really fast after you ask or make sure you're wearing protection, 'cause I might just very well up and knee you in your nether-regions so hard that you'll be eating your lunch in reverse, if ya know what I’m sayin’.
Peace out, bitchez. This is Micycle Dawg over and out. Literally.
On a completely unrelated note, Damn - I could really go for some cream cheese won tons right now. Anyone?
