Instead of working on my thesis or packing to live out of a suitcase right now, my procrastination-loving self decided to update my neglected blog space.
I have been told by many of my Midwest peeps that they wish to live vicariously through me and my adventures via this blog…not sure if I can live up to such high demands of constant updates but I will do my best. Soon everyone will be moving with me right?
So how did I decide to trade my beloved lakes for the monuments of DC— is she losing it do you ask? Well, maybe. I made the decision to apply for a handful of positions in Washington after I tripped on the way to work. At least this is the moment I attribute to my decision. Those of you who know me really well know that I NEVER trip, especially not after a couple glasses of wine. And tripping wasn’t what broke my ankle in high school soccer either- the grass attacked me.
But trip for the millionth time I did. I don’t know if it was my bleeding knee or being upset about scuffing up my new coach sandals, but in my fit of rage and pain, I made the conscious decision that I was ready for a little change of pace. I had actually been "thinking" about it for a while but it was this moment that is responsible for the events on my horizon.
Seriously though, after living all over the country/part of the world, I wasn’t ready to commit to one location. My track record of housing within the Twin Cities area screams commitment issues; although I have stayed mostly loyal to the Minneapolis area I have managed to move 5 times since graduated 4 years ago and I was about to move for the 6th. I would just get sick of the same thing so packing up all my stuff and moving to a new location was a good change. Obviously, this tactic--along with changing my hair color every couple months--worked for a while. Like a drug addict, I needed something more this time.
And so I applied, interviewed, and got a job.
I guess when I initially started applying/interviewing I didn’t think it was actually a possibility that someone would want me and I would continue on with my lovely life in Minnesota. But it happened.
People keep asking me how I feel about it—and I think the appropriate response or one that is socially acceptable in this situation is, excited?
How do I really feel? Scared, anxious, nervous, and a little confused actually. I have never voluntarily chosen to uproot myself and move across the country. It’s always been a mandated thing. So the fact that I am making an "adult" decision to do this is feels foreign to me. My whole life it’s been "we’re moving to North Carolina in a couple months" or "sorry you were really starting to like it here BUT we are moving to Europe now." This time, though, there is no one to be mad at, or stomp up the stairs and slam my door at for "ruining my life"; I am the one responsible. It’s sobering to arrive at the realization that I am completely responsible for making myself happy.
So here I am, less than a week away before all my belongings are packed into boxes and placed in storage…still not completely believing this is a reality. Luckily I have almost two months to live out of my suitcase and say good-bye for now to my beloved Heartland. Hopefully no one feels too betrayed to my leaving and that I will be welcomed with open arms when I return from my trip to Mecca- prodigal son style.