For more than a year, I've stopped writing regularly. It occurred to me that I kept writing about the same things. I even thought of finding my old entries and then making an entry linking to the old one with a revision. With moving within the next year, I feel like I'm on this giant countdown timer to get all the things I've always meant to do, done. Whether it was finally making that jacket I've been thinking about for the last year, cleaning out my art supplies, or learning how to sole that pair of shoes sitting in my drawer for the last three years.
Even though, I don't have that many friends here, they are my best friends and I'm slowly worming around my schedule to make sure I hang out as much as possible before leaving.
I've never realized how much crap I've amassed from all my years of living.