 B chauffeuring me around in Australia :) Guest Post by Brandon Fell
Change. Change can be a million things. The word change can radiate a range of impact wider than the pipes set forth in Mariah Carey's rendition of "All I Want for Christmas Is You", (which I'm administering a free pass to play year-round by the way), yet as drab as a motivational speech from Ben Stein. Think about the last time your company underwent a change. They probably invested time (which is money), resources (which is money), and money (which, is money). In summation, they spent a lot of money to facilitate a smooth transition from point A to point B. Yet, for some reason that little 6 letter word typically projects a state of fear. Sometimes it may be warranted, other times not so much. You can change the sheets on the bed (blah), change your major in college (crap), change jobs (double-crap), and lying just beyond the horizon in my little world, change something that up until a few months ago would have induced an eloquent response along the lines of me telling you where you could go shove an ambiguous object. Of course, that something is coasts (alert the troops! Hide the women and children!). Never in my 28.74 years on this planet would I have even entertained the idea of anything but east coast living. And for beautiful reasons. Family, friends, PSU football games with childhood friends, Philly sports, in a word: home. So as I set out to embark on a fairly extreme domicile uprooting, a guy with 28+ perfect right-side years on his resume moves from a place of comfort, a place of the known's, and armed with what I could only try to describe as a little voice of reasoning who lies somewhere between the white angel on your right shoulder and the red devil on your left shoulder. For shits and gig's, we'll put him in a blue outfit. Kinda like Papa Smurf. He's not supposed to represent good or evil, he's just here to say "hey man, check your shit." Roger that Papa, I hear you man, but like a LeBron James pre-game chalk toss, poof...I'm gone. It is fitting that I traded in my sexy Infiniti (tear drop) for a Nissan X-Terra which, as I've come to find out, was first marketed by Nissan as everything you need, nothing you don't. After folding the rear seats down to make a big open space, I look back at my personal belongings - my life, if you will - and see everything I need, and by default, nothing I don't. Ironic isn't it? What do I need? Clothes? (My golf clubs, c'mon). Support from family and friends in my wake? Open arms and support awaiting me in Frisco. (I realize you people don't like the word Frisco. Well, I don't like being told I threw snow balls at Santa Claus. Check mate.) Anyway, here I am rolled up into a support sandwich. We're here for you B! We ALL love you! (Ok it isn't nearly THAT dramatic.) While this change bears lengthy exchanges with Papa Smurf, what lies on the left side patches up these reservations in a way that, put simply, if everyone was fortunate enough to have someone like her, one wouldn't need to search very far for excuses to smile, and the argument against the glass half full would forever be deemed obsolete. We will be eagerly trading in the gift of sporadic anticipation and excitement to see each other over the last year and a half, the 3,000 miles, and the 3 hour time zone difference for the chance at a forever. See? Change doesn't have to be so scary, does it? In a nation where we read to the right, look left to right at stop signs, and even do the Cupid Shuffle to the right, the right, the right the right the right, going against the grain won't always give you splinters. See you on the left side. (But don't worry Mom. I'll be back.)
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