Wide turns and quick twists

Oh man . . . . I wish I could have my wisdom teeth taken out again. That was the life, aside from the pain.

I:

1. I lost 10 friggin pounds!

2. Slept incredibly well (thank you lortab).

3. Didn't have anything to do (mostly because I'd fall down and vomit if I stood up).

4. Relaxed.

Since I've recovered life has been coming at us non-stop. Every night John and I have had something on the agenda, albeit fun things. But sometimes it's nice to just do things spontaneously - like sleep ten hours straight. For the most part, I think I'm craving a vacation. Not somewhere urban. More tropical, a place where you can hop in a car, find breath-taking scenery and a quaint, quiet place to relax. I've felt this way quite a bit lately, and it's more like an urge rather than a feeling. Which worries me. I mean, heh-lo, we're moving to New York City! The concrete jungle, the city that never sleeps, Gotham, yeish - need I say more? I'm just barely learning how to adjust living with another person, how will I do with living in a place three times the size of my city - but with at least forty times the population! Does it sound like I'm panicking? I hope not, because that'll just make me more nervous. Recently I've been attempting to just focus on the upcoming road trip. I've ignored apartment searching for the past few days (a break from the past two months). Job hunting has been ignored as well for the time. I suddenly feel tired.

But, there are always much more pressing things, things that take priority. My sweet Uncle David passed away last night from kidney failure due to pneumonia. I know that he now exists in a place other than this world. A place, not like the cloudy ethereal rooms in movies where nothing recognizable and tangible exist besides white clouds and golden gates, and spirits waste away for eternity. But a place where people live and have a purpose, and yet experience peace on a level not attained here in this life. And those people, my Uncle David, and I will continue to progress if we so choose. Of course this is only my notion. I just hope that my cousins who I've grown up with will be given the opportunity to mourn freely for the earthly companionship of a dear Father, but take comfort in his release from physical pain and suffering that he had due to fibromyalsia. I know that the death of John or either of my parents would leave me paralyzed. I do not take my Uncle's death as an awakening, as for some reason I frequently feel acutely aware of the precarious hold on life that those around me have. I write this only in the hopes that my family knows of my sincerity and support of them during this sad time. I guess this entry took a quick twist, but that's usually how I roll. Until next time.