ME me ME

So.

This summer has been really great. I was involved in the AR Shakes Festival, I helped produce the first project for the nonprofit I helped start, I taught kids about pirates and crime-solving, and I spent a lot of great time with my friends and family. I would hesitate to say this was the best summer of my life. Yes, even better than summer '05 which was a drunken love fest and also awesome.

Now.

The rumors are true. I am moving to Chicago in two weeks time. Yep, I already signed a lease and everything.  I'm taking my boys, Phil and Darwin, along for the ride. This is my address:

http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&hl=en&geocode=&q=728+W+Roscoe+Apt+3W+Chicago+IL+60657&sll=37.0625,-95.677068&sspn=32.610437,59.765625&ie=UTF8&ll=41.944282,-87.648261&spn=0.007469,0.014591&z=16&iwloc=addr&om=1

Of course, friends, you are all welcome to come and crash on our couch sometime. I am afraid I might get lonely, and I will welcome your company. However, to stave off the lonliness, I can walk down the street literally two blocks to Doug and Michelle's new apartment. It rocks. The neighborhood rocks. Our apartment rocks. Life pretty much is awesome right now.

So, I'm worried.

I'm fucking freaking out, man.  I guess I'm moving up there to pursue my dreams, and I walk down the street and see all the people and the theatres, and I hear kids behind me talking about how long they have been acting to one another. I fear failure. It's kind of suffocating me right now. I don't even want to do the stuff I know I need to do to get ready here, because I know that there it will be really hard there. And I know that it's good that it's hard because I don't want to live a boring, easy life... but right now I'm just hearing the lazy, scared voice trying to convince me that it would be easier--better--- to work at a museum the rest of my life.

So there's that.

Then, I get home all tired and worried, and just needing some alone time to get my head straightened out, and my mom calls. My uncle's dead. Which is surprising since he wasn't ill. Now, we weren't terribly close at all. However, I was fond of the guy. Last time I saw him he came for the the first time to see me act at Midsummer. It was really sweet. He got my autograph.... plus, he died alone in a hotel room (he was traveling for work). That's just really sad to me. I know it's good that he died in his sleep quickly, but I'm just sad about the alone in a hotel room part. Then, I'm really sad for my aunt and my cousins, and most of all my dad. It was his brother. He's taking it ok though. As best you could.

Death. Mortatlity. Family. 

These are the things I am fixated on now; on top of everything else.  Uncle Richard was healthy, attractive, even jolly. Now, he's dead. Out of the blue. I could die too, I guess. So, I better go pursue my dreams like the cliche says: like it's my last day.  But even worse, someone I love could just up and die. And what's worse, they will. I mean, it's fucking inevitable. And I love them... that's sad...

So. 

What to do? How to I shake this melancholy? How do I get inspired, and appreciate life and adventure and love?

Also.

My dog is very frustrating. He lunged at some woman at a garage sale today. It sucked.