Kablammo!

Two weeks from today, I sign a lease and move into my new apartment. Less than a week after that, I start my new job, which will be my first “real” job.

People keep asking me if I’m excited.

I’m not.

“Excitement” to me connotes agitation or breathless eagerness, neither of which applies. I’m not stimulated into a new quantum of activity, like an excited electron would be. There are no restless nights for me, where I can’t sleep out of impatient expectation. I can honestly say that through the entire process of applying and interviewing and whatnot I haven’t had a single “Omigodomigodomigod” moment of the sort that female sitcom characters always seem to be experiencing. And I think doing so would be neither appropriate nor warranted.

I’m anticipating this job, in that I’m looking forward to it and I don’t really dread its coming in the least. And I’m counting down the days until I move, in the sense that I’m going to have enough to do even without leaving all my preparations to the last minute like I’m sure I will.

I don’t think I’m going to take Alexandria by storm, and I certainly don’t pretend I’ll take the world of civil service by storm (I’m not even sure it can be taken by storm). What I’m going to do instead is move and (hopefully) show up to work on time. I expect to cope, no more and no less.

…

What I’m looking forward to most, it turns out, is setting up the speakers I salvaged from my cousin’s Dumpster on Sunday. It never ceases to astound and amaze me when I hear sounds and voices coming from a goddamn box with two wires attached.