It is clear that the world is passing me by.

As I’ve climbed into a hole, digging my nest and matting down the sticks and branches that will soon form a semblance of my new home, I’ve lost touch with everything. Friends. Old co-workers. Life in general. I feel unplugged, off-center and unfocused. My routines are disturbed, and life as I’ve come to know it over the past three years is no longer as predictable as my next breath.

And I’m still trying to regain balance.

Apparently, I’m someone that thrives on balance, and all aspects of my daily life maintaining some sort of cosmic equality. Perhaps it is the control-freak in me, but I like my ducks to be in a row. I enjoy getting up at the same time, eating the same food, working out on the same schedule, etc. Predictable and timed. I’ve become so measured over the past three years that I’ve worn tired grooves into my own psyche…to the point that now, being upset by recent changes, that this new life has yet to sink in.

I still feel like I’m on vacation. Something temporary and finite. So when do I go home to Cincinnati?

Perhaps in all of this I should learn to be less routine. I should throw caution to the wind, now that the boat has been rocked completely already, and stop living my life in a filmloop stuck on repeat. Though I’ve never been a spontaneous person, perhaps this is as good a time as any to be a bit more free, and a little less rigid.

Good Lord, when did I become such a square?