Hey. Hey, HEY!
That's right, I'm back, much like that volcanic zit from your pre-teen, puberty years. This youth-based simile will seem really witty once I explain the new and interesting direction my life is taking.
Piqued your interest? If not, that's ok; I haven't really earned it. I've slacked on my blogging and I'm semi-abashed about it. But I actually have a good reason. Excuse. I have a reasonable excuse.
You see, I've been busy. Not only that, but I was under a self-imposed cone of silence. It was self-preservation, really. I needed the money.
Ok, it's been three paragraphs- I'll get to the point. I'm moving to Phoenix, Arizona, where I will live with none other than ex-Hermana Bryant while I obtain my teaching certification through a program called the Arizona Teaching Fellows. Whew. That felt good. It's been sort of a secret for months now.
Why? Well, it's simple really. I had a job (well, up until this last Thursday), and I wanted to keep it that way. On the mission (yes, I went there), we constantly told people how important it is to "perseverar hasta el fin," or endure to the end. Easier said than done. I had to remind myself my last few days on the job that even when the end is in sight, you can't just let yourself start to lag- you have to cross the finish line first. And even when you do, there's still more work to do on the other side of it. I'm getting tired just thinking about it. And I've never been much of a fan of jogging or running.
|Me, at my desk. Ooooooh.|
|A close-up. Of my desk.|
|I told you I worked my very hardest, even on this, my last day. Note the trickle of sweat, the hand clutching the mouse, and the serious expression on my brow.|
Anyway, the point is, I'm moving on to yet ANOTHER adventure. If I didn't know better, I'd swear I was the one who coined the phrase "out with the old, in with the new." Since graduating college (hell, even in college), I don't think I've lived anywhere more than a year or so at a time. I'm like a nomad, a roaming gnome, big foot- I can't stay in one place for too long or apparently, something in the universe will implode. Part of me likes to say that I hate this constant change, I long to put down some roots, blah and etc. But I think it's the natural privilege of someone young and unattached. Or as my cuzzin Trevor would say, "I does as I pleases." So there must be another part of me that is pleased by being able to explore and try new things.
Which is ironic, really, because I never would have guessed as much by my track record (the same record that shows how much I've moved). When I first went away to college at seventeen, I was a hot mess, minus the hot. It took me two weeks to really adjust to and enjoy college life. I was sad to leave home and everyone I'd known since, well, forever. I'm kinda sentimental in that way, at least. Anyone who was my roommate in college could tell you the horror stories of what I was like when I would come back from Christmas or Summer break. One of my favorites is when Tessa, a housemate who would later become a good friend, moved into the first off-campus apartment I had lived in. I must have been a real treasure, because she called her now husband and said "I don't think I can do this." He advised her to help me move my thousands of boxes, most of them books I'd managed to collect in my time working at at a resale book warehouse (spoiler alert: the boxes were HEAVY), into the apartment. It's hard to be pissy and not make a friend once you go through an experience like that. You know, like Harry, Ron and Hermione in the first Harry Potter? Yeah, just like that.
The Summertime Sadness also hit me when I went on the mission. My parents helped me and my luggage out of the car and I warned the Elder (man missionary) that "just so you know, I'm probably gonna cry soon." And I did. And it only lasted a half hour, and I was golden for a year and a half. So I'm hoping that when I leave tomorrow morning on my wild and wily exodus, the meltdown will be substantially smaller. Five minutes? Is that reasonable?
Anyway, I am actually pretty excited to be a teacher in spite of the fact that, much like the mission, I initially tried to avoid that career path until it became clear I could no longer do so. Coming back from the mission is when I figured out I wanted to teach. Go figure. So right now, I am as ready as I'm gonna be for my sweet and sour adventure. I will have my dad in tow (at the age of 26, apparently I'm still not old enough to make a personal voyage). But let's be serious, I'll enjoy the company and someone to eat some of the road trip goody snacks. I have a bridesmaids dress I have to squeeze myself into, after all. Hna. Bryant will become Hna. Peralta soon, so I'm not the only one who has new adventures to look forward to. But now, whilst still in limbo, I'll enjoy the time left with my mom, my sister, and my cat. And really, that's as good as it gets.
Oh, and here's the obligatory pics of me in the musical The Masked Canary that I was in. Yeah, that one, the one that took up a good couple months of my life and was pretty much the best musical I've ever been in. And the only one. Long live the Masked Canary! End scene.
|Me as Sidekick, and Dan, the manager of the Liberty Lake Safeway, as Old Timer. My buddy Brittany Trader is in the background; the guy next to her was the bad guy of the show and he pulled her up on stage during part of the second act.|
|There's only room for one Masked Canary on this stage! I gave it my all, but show after show, came up short.|
Farewell for now,