The Swords of the Ancients

I’m getting ready to say goodbye to my home for the last year. Since I started college, this has been the longest I’ve ever lived in any one place. Granted, I lived on campus for four years, but there was always shuffling around from one side of campus to another, usually after nine months, and then again after three. This time I’ve actually managed to spend a full calendar year in one apartment. It’s absolutely bizarre.

I’m torn on the whole moving thing. I like solidarity, or at least, I did. I blame living in the same damn room for the first nineteen years of my life. Now I’m staring at a two day period in which I can pack up my stuff from my first real off-campus home. Naturally, I am choosing to write something at the moment instead of actually packing. This doesn’t surprise me. I’m guess that maybe I’m waiting for last-minute panic to sink in. My walls are bare. That’s a start.

I can’t wait to get a fresh start in a new home. I can’t wait to find my footing. I can’t wait to be able to set up my makeshift desk and get to writing. I’ll keep you informed. In the meantime, I’m knee-deep in George R. R. Martin’s A Game of Thrones. I’m loving it so far. It’s some of the best fantasy I’ve read in a long time. I’m also still, as always, pondering the questions that are shaping Aurellis as a world, and the people who inhabit it. Of late, there is one pressing question. Who is Rhu? I’m not sure yet. I don’t know any details about Rhu, or who he or she may be, but I feel that, regardless of these questions, Rhu is important.