I've moved many times in my life, and I know the drill. Start selling stuff, call the utility companies, collect cardboard boxes, yadda yadda yadda. I don't get agita about it; I just do it. Migrations of these sorts are exciting for me. A change of scenery. A shower after a long run in the desert. A necessary re-programming.
And yet I'm experiencing deep anxiety around another type of migration I just made this weekend--to another computer. I have a fear of something going drastically wrong, of being lost in my new environment, of not making any friends in Vaio-land. I feel like my four-year-old niece, Bella, who has been trying to cope with an impending move to a new state.
"I don't wanna lose my friends," she says.
"But you'll have more room for people to come over and play, and I'll come out to see you!" I say.
"Yeah," she says, not convinced that it really will all work out in the end.
I know how she feels. I've needed a new computer for about eighteen months now. I know that, once I settle in I'll get to see all of my old blog buddies, my email correspondents, my old settings, but while I navigate the murky waters of transferring data I do so with dread. I prepare myself for the possibility that some of it won't be making the journey with me, that I will have to recreate breadcrumbs and email threads--my version of long and short-term relationships.
Following along with Sarah's meme posted on BlogHer.com, who am I to try to miss the chance to encapsulate myself in 10 seconds...