40 Days

40 days.

It’s equal to the number of days Jesus spent in the desert. The number of days Moses spent on the mountain. The number of days it takes to complete the mummification process. The number of days I have left as a student at my Beautiful California University.

While I have more than 40 days until I move (something like 100 days, ish. I don’t know exactly when I’m moving, but it’ll be in late July), it feels like nothing will be the same after 40 days. People will leave for the summer and I may not see most of them again for a very long time.

The decreasing number of days I have left as a student at this institution is overwhelming. I legitimately do not know how to feel or react to this. On the continuing journey of my life and things that happen, this is (yet again) something I have not ever dealt with before.

Except this ever-falling count is not just the symbol of the end of a year or the end of my time as an undergraduate student. It is a number that represents the time I have left here. I have already begun packing. 40 days is how long I have left here, in this life in California, and at my Beautiful California University. It is legitimately a new start. This has been realized by the fact that there is a whole group of people who know me by my full actual name, as opposed to the nickname that I have used for my entire life.

I feel like I am in-between. Everything I was a part of at my Beautiful California University is moving on without me. My time has come and gone. Yet my time at the next place has not even begun yet. It turns out that a vast number of the people that I regularly hung out with were people that I saw often because of the positions I have held. As a consequence of being less involved, my social life has decreased.

In a way, this is a good thing. If I legitimately take advantage of the incredible opportunity I have, I can grow so much. I can develop into an awesomer version of myself. But honestly, I have not been taking advantage of the free time I have. This is something I need to do. I was talking with one of my supervisors recently who called me out on a lot of stuff – specifically how I am spending my free time. I am letting television entertain me, instead of entertaining myself. I need to read more. I need to write more. I need to do things because I want to, not because I have to. Younger Me would be disappointed in Current Me for not reading as much. For not taking advantage of all the opportunities Current Me has. Shoot, as proud as my mom would probably be of me, I’m sure even she would chew me out for not reading and being creative as much as I should be.

In the next 40 days, I want to read at least 3 books. That’s like, 13 days per book, which is ridiculously easy. I want to write like, 50 pages. Which really, is nothing. If I write 30 for my fiction piece, and 20 for my non-fiction piece, I can have that easy in two weeks, or less. Maybe even a couple of days. But I really need to buckle down and get it done.

In addition to my writing, I need to journal. I’m getting an awesome fancy Moleskine notebook. I want to use it! I want to fill it with thoughts, questions, notes, things that inspire me, scare me, move me. I want to look back, and think “wow, that was an awesome time.”

I need to spend time with people I really care about. I need to tell those people how important they are. Because life is short. Money comes and goes. Houses are places to sleep. And friendship is worth more than all of that put together. Well. Maybe not worth more than life. But you know what I mean. Friendship – true friendship – is love. Not weird, awkward love. But brotherly/sisterly love.

If I was not already, this is where I become a real adult. In 40 days. This is where responsibility becomes real. I have been paying bills and going through the motions of being an adult, but I have always had people to support me, to catch me if/when I fall. I am moving to Oklahoma. I will be in a completely new place, with completely new people. I am so excited.

I will miss you, California.

In 40 days.