My readers will, for the most part, know me well enough to forgo an introduction, but for those who stumble upon this blog, or anyone who may know my plans, but not my thoughts, here is the short version of my story.
As of the writing of this post I am living in Sacramento, California, a city of about 480,000 where 100° days in summer are common enough for 90° days to be considered cool. Somehow I find myself on the verge of moving Machias, a small town (2200) in Eastern Maine (how east? you might ask, it's practically in Canada), to go to school for Book Arts.
It would be fair to ask, "Dan, what the fuck are you thinking?" to which I would say; thinking played very little part in it. It may sound odd, but at 31, I don't have the luxury of thinking. I was sure that any school opportunities I'd ever have, if any, were long past, so when I found the Book Arts program, something that was practically built with me in mind, I didn't have much confidence that I could do anything but apply. Today I got the call; I'm in! I'm moving to Maine! What the fuck am I thinking!?
How can a city boy from California survive in snowy Maine? That's a damn good question, and the answers will surely come as this blog evolves. In the meantime you can enjoy my moving foibles, from putting things in incorrect boxes to frustrating the hell out of the people trying to help me move to trying to drive an edgy dog all the way across the country, and once I'm there the comedy will only increase I'm sure. Who knows, maybe I'll try to take up canning.
(Coming next time:Telling my friends and family. Where did all these books come from? My Sacramento bucket list.)