By the time you read this, I will be gone.
That's right, I am writing to you from...the past, which sounds a whole lot less impressive than writing to you from the future, but there it is. Forty-eight hours in the past, to be exact. Tomorrow (yesterday) I will be going to the airport and leaving town (have already left). And though, in very ironic fashion, June 21 was also the chosen date for my hypothetical return to France, I am not now headed back on a one-way flight to Paris. In fact, I am going to visit my friend Canaan in her hometown, which, as luck would have it, is soon going to be my new hometown. (Though it's lucky the flights leave from two different airports, otherwise I may have found myself irresistibly drawn closer and closer to the international departures hall). Anyway, I ended up taking the job I mentioned at the very end of this post, the part-time one with no benefits in the middle of New York state. If the last three weeks of living a life of seclusion in my parents' house has taught me anything, it's that there's definitely nothing keeping me in Maryland. I've had enough family time to last me for the next year, at least, and my friends are already scattered to the four winds, so why not start over somewhere new? And a part-time job is better than no job, or at least that's what I keep telling myself.
The next few days will be a flurry of meeting potential roommates and hopefully nailing down a place to live before returning home, only to leave again for good in mid-August, when I will begin my duties as the newest member of the French department at Mythaca College. The reason for the nickname is twofold: first, Mythaca is a small town and I'd like to avoid tripping the Google sensors, if possible. And second, I've met so many people over the years who have lived there at some point in their lives (Canaan, obviously; also my ex, his roommate, and some of their friends), that after hearing all their stories, the place has assumed a sort of mythical status for me. I had always been curious about it, had always wanted to go there (the ex and I used to talk about taking a trip), but I had never imagined myself deciding to move there, sight unseen. To say that I'm apprehensive would be a gross understatement. Let's just hope the next few days go well and I don't return home wringing my hands and wailing, "What have I done???" Canaan, of course, is sure everything is going to work out swimmingly, and between her glass-half-full optimism, and my half-empty negativity, that's like, a full glass right there, between us. Which is good, because I'm going to need all the help I can get.
Along with hypothetical glasses filled to varying levels with hypothetical liquids, I am also a believer in vibes, so send good ones, please, everyone.