But won't it make a good story?

I have recently shifted my life's compass to to be guided not by the North Star, but rather the answer to a clear and simple question: "Will it make a good story?" There's an incredible power of perspective in such a seemingly silly question. Not every situation, but many situations can be transformed through their re-telling. Equally powerful is one's, okay my, ability to approach ridiculous situations in a positive way by imagining how I'd retell them at a later date. Truly, how else would a purportedly rational and sane girl agree to move blindly to Waco, Texas?

For weeks now I've wrestled with the decision, or rather the action associated with my decision to pursue my academic goals in a town that boasts a Guns R Us and a Walmart on every block. But ultimately it comes back to gratitude. Someday I'll tell the story of driving past the Guns R Us and how I can't imagine my life's path without such a pivitol and challenging experience. The anticipation is the worst. That, and not knowing in any real way what my daily life is going to look like. But with anticipation comes a giddy excitement in those moments I envision my life as a spankin' new, shrink-wrapped gift waiting to be ripped into on a Christmas morning.

The movers will be pulling up to my driveway in a month's time, and I've done virtually nothing to prepare. I'm hoping that once I've signed a lease and can actually visualize my random collection of belongings in another space, that I'll be motivated to start packing them. Or give them away. Nothing before has made me so acutely aware of the amount of unnecessary "stuff" I've got. Interesting, given I work with people who carry all of their "stuff" in a single backpack with a broken zipper. But more on that later.

There's too much to say... I can't organize it yet. Somehow I know this experience will have story potential, and for now, that's all I need to move forward. Thinking about its life-changing potential is just a bit too overwhelming.

Dear Dr. Pepper Museum,

I sure hope you're Waco-ol (pr: whey-cool), because I'm comin' for you (ahem, ya'll).

Sincerely,

Sahoodi.