So, in the wee hours of the morning, what I'm about to undertake is finally setting in and I'm starting to get apprehensive. I guess it's official now that I've shipped out most of my stuff and I've started dismantling my room (I love that word -- "dismantle"). The subletter moves in on Saturday. I make my final run to Connecticut on Thursday to unload my stuff and I live out of a suitcase for a few days before I fly out to L.A. for a short trip. When I return from Los Angeles on Wednesday morning, I will no longer be a resident of Boston.

It's not that I'm having regrets or second thoughts. I'm not. If anything, I know that this is something I have to do, especially since one of the things I'm most afraid of is being 45, sitting at some dead-end boring-ass job and thinking to myself that I never went after this and I never went for the gusto and I could've had the life I wanted but instead decided to sit back and play it safe. I have to do this. I have to grab life by the balls and yank, especially since this is something I actually want to do rather than just drifting along and doing some job just because it was suggested to me or a personality test said I'd be good at it.

It's just a matter of my apprehension. This is a huge step. This is a big jump. This is leaving behind everything and everyone I've known to travel 3000 miles away to an enormous city I've spent less than a week of my life in and know less than a dozen people. My only consolation is the fact that it's reversible -- if things don't work out, I can always move back here. But for the first time in my life, I'm really going to be on my own.

I'm going to do this. I'm moving to Los Angeles, I'm pursuing something I finally have a burning desire to do. For the first time in almost a decade, I'm pursuing a job that I am not just "eh" about. Now I just have to decide whether the roiling in my stomach is due to my fears that things won't work out or the fact that I had too many Sno-Caps tonight.