I am really bad at blogging.

As the title implies, I am really bad at blogging. 

I actually lost the account information for this blog and only recently was able to recover it...that's how bad I am at blogging. It's funny because I have social media attached to me as though I was born with it like a deformity but blogging? Nah.

You would think by the amount I love to talk, and the fact that I'm an actor, would make blogging ideal for ego stroking and bragging about whatever I am doing--especially living in London. You would think that as someone who identifies as an actor, playwright, and director I would be particularly keen to journal my thoughts and feelings...then publish them to show everyone how raw and emotional I am. You would think.

However, I am the worst at writing my feelings down. Don't get me wrong, I am 100% an external processor and need to talk through my issues or circumstances out loud to come to a conclusion. But for some reason writing a journal, especially handwriting one, has never been a hobby of mine. The idea is romantic though...especially with all the lovely journals you can write in now a days. Practically, however, it wasn't my specialty. 

I use journals to write out plots, character notes, research things...stuff that pertains to a play I am in or writing. But ask me to journal my thoughts and feelings? I will probably throw a tantrum--internally at the very least. I remember in my undergraduate program we had to do journals all the time to express how movement pieces made us feel or what we were going through in our lives that could have impact on us. I see the value, no question there, but if you're not particularly skilled at that activity (or find it difficult as your hand cramps while you write) then it may not be as beneficial to that individual.

Of course, if you're reading this, you'll see the irony as I am...well, I'm blogging. I am bad at blogging, so keep your expectations realistic. If you scroll through the posts you will see that I CONSISTENTLY have apology posts for how bad I am at keeping a schedule on this blog.

I suppose I should get to the real point of this post. Besides my inability to consistently share my thoughts in blog form on the Internet, things are a bit messy right now. My MFA program has ended, I've graduated, I put a show on that I wrote at the Camden Fringe Festival with my theatre company, and I am most likely (95%) moving back to the United States in ten days. It's a lot of emotion right now.

Fear. 

Sadness.

Grief.

Anger.

Joy.

I'm basically the movie "Inside Out".

I have a lot of feelings swirling around inside my head and I wish that I wasn't in control of them, because that would mean I could blame things on little animated figures. Life doesn't work like a Pixar film, so I am stuck with the responsibility of my feelings and choices in my life. Boo hiss boo! I think some would call this responsibility, or a branch of it, and that it directly relates to being an adult. I am also told that I am now considered an adult member of society.

Man, life got hard really fast and suddenly.

Times of change, especially big change, are always hard. This time it's especially hard because I feel like I have finally found home. London has always been a place where I have felt particularly joyful and challenged...a place I could call home. Having now spent the past two years of my life here, I can say without a doubt that London is a home to me. In this time of adjustment I am realizing that maybe I will have many homes, and that's going to be okay. Unless some sort of crazy apocalypse happens, London will always be here. I forget that sometimes as I pack up suitcases, throw away bits and pieces of the past two years, and decide what is really important to me and what is just stuff. 

2016 has been a big year for me, and I don't see it getting any smaller in the future. This month is going to be particularly hard, even after I know where I am relocating. I could get really lucky and end up staying. The possibility is there, though the probability is low. I am most likely moving back to San Diego, which means I have a lot of things to organize in the next ten days to make sure my affairs are in order. 

(That sounds like I am dying...you're lucky I'm level-headed while writing this or it'd be full of indulgent, morbid tones.)

I have a lot to be grateful for in this time of hardship. I have things to be justifiably upset about. I have things to be over-joyed about. I am full of feelings, swelling with absolutely every emotion possible and yet numb. I don't have any answers for questions like: 

"What's your next step?"  "Any big plans when you move back?"  "Are you going to do anything when you get back to California?"  "Do you think you'll be happy there?"

Easy, cowboy...My next step is to take it one step at a time, projecting too far into the future isn't good for me. My big plans when I move back are to take it one step at a time. Obviously I am going to do things in California, what a stupid vague question. Happiness is subjective and I don't know if I believe in it because it implies that I am untroubled or carefree or content and I rather not have those adjectives describe my life. 

The Oatmeal did a post recently about happiness that describes it in a way that I really enjoy. You can find it here. I highly recommend giving it a read.

I suppose I won't know what will happen when I move. I am not psychic and thus cannot tell the future, to my great dismay. I know that I have people who love me and support me, which makes this transition easier. I know that I have made the most of my time in London. I know that I have become a stronger, wiser, and better person. I know I have an MFA and I'm only 24. I know quite a few things, which gives me comfort. 

I also know I am really bad at blogging (being aware of my downfalls is also important).