Real life starts tomorrow.

Tomorrow I go back to the 9-to-5 working life, something I haven’t done in a couple of years. I am excited (making money! Doing what I love! Working without the pressure of being in school! Meeting new people!), scared (what if I suck? What will I wear – all my clothes are still in boxes! Meeting new people!), and a little sad (goodbye, glorious freedom of the past six months).

Mostly, I am waiting in anticipation for normalcy. For having a regular schedule, coming home and making dinner, doing yoga, seeing friends, etc. It will take several months for this normalcy to appear and I am acutely aware of this (Christine’s honest opinion, which I love her for, “the next few months will suck. Suck a lot. But it’s fine”). And so tomorrow I will try to live what I would like a ‘normal’ day to look like – waking up on time, doing yoga before work, packing a lunch, feeling energetic through the work day, making dinner, speaking with a friend or two, chatting with Mike, going to bed at a reasonable hour.

Some times the idea of months and months of average days like this frighten me (ahh! suburban, coupled life!) but today I find it appealing in its simplicity. I think the crazy week of co-chairing the InterFuture conference and then moving is making me crave the basics. I appreciate the chaotic times and late late nights with friends when they are less frequent than the boring, normal days. The chaotic times have been more often than not for the past month and I won’t miss them as I recuperate for a couple of weeks.

On a side note – I am coming to Boston in a couple of weeks (Feb. 19th, I think?)! Boston folks (i.e. Kate and Kaitlin), I look forward to seeing you then!


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Small town livin’

There are some pretty major life changes in the works. I did get that job I mentioned previously (yay!) and that has big implications, beyond the fact that I will be employed and no longer just hanging out.

For the past seven years, I have lived in Boston. On and off at times – I lived abroad for a year – but Boston has always been home base. I have lived there my entire adult life and it is where I came of age. It feels, in many ways, more home to me than my parents’ house, a place where we moved when I was a senior in high school. Mike and I were living in the middle of nowhere in Mexico but it felt like a temporary thing, always. An adventure, a dream, with a set end-date.

This job that I have gotten, and will start at the end of the month, is in a town about two hours west of Boston. It is not in a village or anything (it’s a metropolis compared to where my parents live) but it is not urban. I need to own a car. My commute will be a half hour drive each way. I’ve barely driven at all in the past seven years and haven’t owned a car since high school. I now am the not-so-proud owner (I claimed I was never going to buy a car ever again and have sheepishly had to eat my words) of an admittedly adorable Honda Fit but…buying the car was stressful. It’s a lot of money but more than that it served as a symbol of the massive culture shock I am going through.

Don’t get me wrong – I am beyond excited. The job is amazing, the perfect position for me, actually (well, in theory. Maybe I should work a week or two before saying that, ha!). Even with the car payment and gas and whatnot, life will be cheaper. Rent out there – wow. Mike and I found a really nice place (we’re moving in together – no big deal, just stack that giant relationship change on top of everything else, haha) for significantly, really significantly, less than what I was paying in Boston. And the place is huge! And we’ll have a garden!

So while small town living is no longer familiar, I expect I will adapt quickly. It is, after all, what I grew up with. I am psyched to be involved with my local public library (friends group, here I come!) and to get to know the area. Mike, however, is moving back to his hometown, which presents a whole other set of issues…

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My new year’s resolution is to read more poetry. I read the corniest article in a library journal about reading poems every day at breakfast, instead of the newspaper, to wake your brain up – and something about that idea stuck. Obviously, I am going to start with Wendell Berry but I am looking for other suggestions. I was an English major but I always avoided poetry at all costs. Who is your favorite poet? Where should I begin?

I have a long blog entry idea floating around in my brain. Hopefully I’ll make some time for writing it tomorrow.


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Where to go from here…

Well, folks- just an update on the blog. As I continue to go through reverse culture shock (and the lesser known reverse-tent-living shock) and beyond, I plan on still posting here. About pretty much whatever I feel like. Not sure about Mike, but you can count on me for continued semi-purposeful ramblings about life, if you choose to continue reading.

The amount of posts will be directly in relation to my hearing about a job next week. Unemployment = lots and lots of blog posts. So keep your fingers crossed (for me to get the job, preferably).


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Proof that I am not where I was a week ago

One week ago: I used a small, quick-dry, packable towel for showering. Showers involved cold water from an overhead tank or a bucket. If I wanted to clean my towel, I hand washed it, also in a bucket. Castile soap was the only hygiene product present. For washing my hair, clothes, dirty dishes, etc…

Today: Hot water shower. Clean clothes. Actual shampoo, intended for hair, AND conditioner. Lotion, because it is extremely dry. And a huge, fluffy towel, freshly clean because my mom just washed it, unbeknownst to me.

Life is different.


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