three months in

Today marks 3 months since I packed up my life and my cat and moved away from home.

I had to say goodbye to my friends; my family; my home. My life.

It marks three months since I struck out on my own. Three months since I got my first little apartment.

... and made it my own little temporary home away from home. With bright yellow curtains, birds of all shapes and sizes, vintage maps, and things I've picked up from around the world.

And of course, precious reminders of home.

Today marks 3 months since this smalltown girl felt her heart drop at the skyline of the big city.

I wish that I could say that it's been an amazing three months.

I cannot say that.

However. I can say that it's been a learning experience. A growing experience. A crash-course in adulthood, that is for sure.

And a crash-course in homesickness.

I've had to learn how to run a household. How to navigate big city living and traffic. How to balance school + work + a household. How to keep myself and my cat alive. How to quell my homesickness (well, that one I'm still working on).

I cant say that 3 months has changed me. It's made me grow, learn, experience. It's made me become more independent. Maybe 3 months in the big city has even hardened me a bit.

But what I can say without absolute certainity? The one thing I've learned in 3 months:

There's no place like home.

thank you thank you thank you

They are simple words that do not seem like nearly enough.

But, today, they'll just have to do.

Thank you to all of the veterans who have served our country. Protected our country. Protected our freedoms and liberties. Protected our lives.

Thank you to all of the current servicemen and women who are serving our country, protecting our freedoms, liberties, and lives.

Thank you to my baby brother who is now among their ranks.

Thank you.

new york, new york

Oh, how I wish I was here:

Wanderlust strikes again!

I have the urge to stop life and take off to another city.

New York City in particular. No idea where the sudden urge came from. It's kind of like cravings. You don't know where they come from, but you just have to have it. I crave places like people crave chocolate. London, Thailand, and Belgium are the usual suspects for the places I crave. But currently, I'm craving New York. The people, the sights, the sounds, the hustle and bustle.

I'm trying to talk my best friend into going with me over [my month-long] Christmas break, but she's a bit more country than city. I want to see the big tree, go ice skating, see the snow, wear a winter coat, sip hot chocolate, and walk the streets aimlessly.

I suppose that's what dreams are for.

Especially when you're a poor graduate student.

Good thing New York will still be there next December, when I'm finished and have had even longer to talk my best friend into going with me.

Wait for me, New York City.

inspiring wall art

These days, I've been in a bit of an unhappy rut. School, work, the city, life in general has been dragging me down.

When I go home at night, it's my cute little apartment with it's yellow curtains and collection of birds that helps lift my spirits. And while I love every piece of my apartment, it was still lacking something.

Enter these gems:

(these hang in my living room)

(this hangs above my dresser, in my bedroom)

They're from my favorite (despite it being completely addicting and the fact that it sucks money from my savings account constantly) website, etsy. By sparkle power. I've been eyeing them for months, but finally took the plunge and bought them. Thanks to $5 ikea picture frames they make for wonderful (and cheap!) wall art.

They are exactly what I needed.

They pretty up my walls. They inspire my soul. They tug my lips into a smile. They get me through the days when I'm extra lonely and homesick.

They're perfect.

murderer.

Here's the sad, sad truth:

I'm a murderer.

(Don't let this picture fool you. The one that looks green and leafy and... alive? It's just dying a slow, slow death)

It's really a miracle that I've kept myself and the cat alive this long.

I keep holding out hope that these two little plants will revive themselves and be pretty and green once more, but that hopes is rapidly dwindling.

thoughts on being the sister of a soldier

I love my brother more than anyone else in the world.

Anyone.

The night I graduated college (I was deathly ill, hopped on cold medicine and wine from the huge party my parents were throwing for me) he told me he was joining the Army.

I cried.

Three weeks later, I drove him to the recruiters office and saw him off as he headed to Fort Benning for boot camp. His MOS? Infantry.

I cried.

In June (he was home for a short stint in the middle of boot camp due to injury) I went to Fort Benning and watched as my little brother graduated boot camp. It was a proud moment to watch my baby brother who I once made play house with me and had a baby doll named Lee become a soldier.

Two weeks later, he left home once more, headed for Washington state.

On September 11th, I watched the ceremonies and remembered the day vividly. But it was different. I thought of my brother who was soon heading off to fight a war that was brought on by that day.

I cried.

A couple days later, my brother left for Kuwait. I told him not to be hero.

I cried.

Weeks after he arrived in Kuwait, he went to Iraq. Despite how much things have calmed down in Iraq in recent years, there are still reports of bombings. Reports of deaths and injuries.

And my brother is in the heart of it all.

For my mother, every phone call could be a report that my brother has been injured. Every knock on the door could be someone coming to tell her the worst has happened - that my brother has made the biggest sacrifice for his county.

I worry about his safety every single day. The fear and worry is more than I imagined it being. I do not watch the news and try to avoid the headlines in the newspaper, but the concern I feel for my brother is ever-present.

The fear that if the worst should happen, I am the one who must plan his funeral. And that thought is terrifying.

How could it not be? He is the most precious thing to me. The most loved, the most adored.

We are opposites. Completely and utterly. But he's the other half of me. He has everything I lack.

The other day at work, a nice old man came in. I asked him if he was in the Army (because of his hat) and he said yes, retired. I told him that my brother was in the Army, too. He asked where he was stationed. I told him Iraq.

This is what he said to me: Tell him I said thank you. My prayers are with him. And thank you for sacrificing him.

I cried.

(I am not a crier).

photo: kuwait

grad school: a visual

This is what graduate school looks like.

Especially when you are miles behind on a [huge] project that is due in 6 weeks. And things like 1023, 990, budget, outcome reports, bylaws, and incorporation articles keep popping up. Things that you haven't the slightest idea how to do.

The glamorous life this is not.

not pictured:
-my dwindling sanity
-the inordinate amount of stress i feel
-the rest of my apartment that looks like a bomb has gone off
-the copious amonts of diet coke helping me through it all