there's no place like home

When I was a little girl, my very favorite movie was The Wizard of Oz. I have undoubtedly seen it thousands of times. I idolized Dorothy and those ruby slippers of hers (I was even gifted with a pair of my own for a birthday). I dreamt of flying somewhere over the rainbow and going to the Emerald City.

The message in The Wizard of Oz is a simple yet profound one: there's no place like home.

Just like I found myself doing when I was a little girl, chanting that line over and clicking my heels together, I find myself wishing magic like that actually existed and I could click myself back home.

Or that I still had those ruby slippers of mine...

Just last week, my best friend has accused me of being happy and it felt really good to be out on my own, with things coming together, and no hint of homesickness to be felt. I thought if I could just survive that first week, everything else would be smooth sailing.

I was wrong.

Very, very wrong.

Two weeks in and I'm miserable. I'm overwhelmed. I'm feeling defeated. I'm feeling completely and utterly homesick. There's that dull ache in my chest that yearns to go back home and see those shining, familiar faces; to be embraced by those I love and cherish.

There is an overwhelming pull to get my life back.

My old life filled with familiar, friendly faces. Filled with routines and stability; comfort and peace. That is what I yearn most for in this sea of changes.

The new job seems to be sucking the life right from me. This city and it's massive amounts of people and traffic seem to be driving me to the brink. And I've decided graduate school is surely code for hell, they just charge more for the price of admission.

In trying to survive all of that in one horrible week has left me simply with the urge to return home and be taken in by loved ones. Sympathized with and given promises of hope. I need their strength to carry me through the next week and the next.

Even if that means a 3.5 hour drive each way. The pull is too strong; the urge too hard to ignore; and the ache in my chest only growing with each hour that I am not within the familiar bonds of my home.

So, I will be clicking my ruby slippers together in the morning, because, after all:

there's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place like home...

at what cost?

In today's economy, with people losing their jobs left and right, and with new ones almost impossible to come by, I know I should be thanking my lucky stars that I was basically handed a job on a silver platter and was unemployed for a total of 9 days.

However, with a total of 3 days in, I'm beginning to wonder if it really was all for the best. Of course I'll be getting a paycheck and able to pay all of my bills.

But sometimes you have to ask yourself at what cost?

I will admit that last night, I cried as I drove home last night from work. It was the culmination of desperately missing everyone from my old job and knowing I don't really fit in with my new coworkers. It was knowing I was the best at what I used to do and knowing that now, I am the very worst and know next to nothing. It's how absolutely uncomfortable I feel there.

Is a paycheck worth all of those things?

I realize that there is always a period of adjustment when you start a new job. Always. You go through that period of feeling like you'll never learn how it's all done or you'll never truly get a concept. I fully understand that - it's a given with any job.

I'm just not sure that's what this is.

There's also the fact that this is what I used to do, it's just doing it somewhere else. And in doing that, I need to break all of old habits and form new ones. Which isn't unreasonable, of course. It just seems that way when I think the old way is better than this new way. Old habits die hard, I suppose. But maybe those old ways are the better way to do things. Those are the ways I feel comfortable doing everything. These new ways? I'm not comfortable doing them and I'm not sure that I ever will be.

Is feeling like you're losing all those wonderful things you learned and never feeling right with what you're doing, 40 hours a week, worth that paycheck?

Is working 40 hours worth your schoolwork suffering and wasting the $3000 you spent on tuition? Is it worth driving 40 minutes there and back? Is it worth not getting home until close to midnight worth it, especially when you have to be up early the next day to go to school? Is it worth missing Thanksgiving and Christmas with your family and friends?

Yes. I am receiving a paycheck. A paycheck most people would kill for right now in this economy. But is it really worth what it's costing me?

the first day of school

I've always been one to consider the first day of school a big day. Whether it's the first day of high school, college, beauty school. I think it's a milestone in your life. The very first day. Time for a fresh start - a new year, new faces, new notebooks. Everything starts anew and the future lays before you a blank slate, ready for you to make your mark.

It's a day for endless possibilities.

In the spirit of those new possibilities before me, I woke up at the crack of dawn (6:30 am!) to get ready for the day before me. That mostly included throwing on some clothes and doing some last minute reading for the first day of class (why yes, I am a slacker already, before school even starts).

And because new beginnings always mean new wardrobes - at least they do for me - I had some new clothes to pick from for my first day of school outfit. Even though it's grad school I'm starting, I still think requires a back-to-school outfit for the first day. There's plenty of time in the semester to slink back to jeans and t-shirts, the first day requires something special.

With no audience (my mother) to model all my choices for, I debated with myself what I should wear. Professional? Casual? Business casual? I wasn't quite sure what grad school would call for or what the other students would be supporting, so I played it safe and went with this:

Dark wash trouser jeans and a deep red blouse. So, a business-casual-ish look. With cute brown Mary Janes ($15 at Target!).

I paired it all with the necklace above. This necklace is not only an accessory but a little boost of courage. Beneath the compass is a line from my favorite poem, Invictus by Henley which always reminds me that it is within me to succeed. That I am the one who has the power to break me or make me.

It's inspiring. Two simple little lines from a poem gives me all the courage I need to leap blindly into the future; into the endless possibilities awaiting me.

I am the master of my fate;

I am the captain of my soul.

William Ernest Henley, Invictus.

berry berry busy

I had thought that my first week of living here would be basically spent in my new apartment. Unpacking, arranging, and organizing. I thought I'd only leave my apartment for a trip to the grocery store. It hasn't really gone that way, however. I've been forced to leave the confines of my apartment every single day since I've been here. Mostly for work-related stuff. It's just that each jaunt to my new place of employment requires a 35 minute drive both ways.

Come Saturday, things will only get busier and more hectic. Saturday marks my first day of graduate school (yes - Saturday). With only a couple days left until I start school, my nerves are starting to kick in. I haven't been to school in 9 months and I've rather enjoyed the break. So, it's going to be hard going back. Especially to a new campus, in a new town, with a graduate-level workload.

I've started being a slacker student already, so I'm not off to the greatest start. Tonight was new student orientation and in the midst of the move, I didn't RSVP in time, so... no orientation for me. But, I find that orientations are usually hours of my life I'll never get back and I usually leave more confused than when I came.

So, I'm just enjoying these last free days of mine (though, they haven't been completely free) until I start school on Saturday and my first day of work at my new job on Monday.

I will be a very, very busy bee, that is fact. So, in the spirit of my upcoming business, I decided I would need to have a very portable breakfast/snack for my long commutes to school and work. Hence, my berry berry smoothie. I whipped this up this morning so I'd have something to eat (drink) in the car on my way to the workplace to fill out paperwork. Be forewarned, I am not, by any means, a cook, so... just because this is edible to me, doesn't mean it will be to others.

Megan's Berry Berry Smoothie:

• Handful of ice
• 1 cup of frozen mixed berries (I used strawberries, blackberries, blueberries, and raspberries).
• Two-ish pours of Stonyfield Plain Organic yogurt (I don't eat plain yogurt by itself, but it's great for smoothies. And organic is where it's at. I try my best to eat as organically as possible).
• 3/4 of a banana
• ... and because 'green' smoothies are all the rage on a lot of food blogs I frequent, I tried a big pinch of spinach.
  
  

  

Blend all ingredients (which are just approximates of what I put into my smoothie) until they're a smoothie-like consistency. And enjoy!

I think next time, I'd add the whole banana and some more yogurt, probably the entire serving size, which is 1 cup. And I could probably even do with more spinach, because, honestly, I wasn't able to taste it. A great way to hide the greens!

It really was a great, healthy antioxidant packed smoothie. Perfect for on-the-go busy bees.

the beginning of something

Today, as I was texting my best friend a play-by-play of my adventures downtown, she told me I sounded happy.

The funny thing is, she was kind of right. I did feel happy. Somehow, by some sort of miracle, things have come together in the 5 days that I've lived here. My apartment looks good (even if it's occupied by a ghost). I found a job in 4 days. I've made plans for next weekend with a sweet friend of a friend who offered to show me around and introduce me to her friends.

And today, when I drove downtown to fill out some paperwork for my new job, I decided to venture out and drive around to see what I would stumble across. And stumble I did.

I drove past the water again. The water is such an anchor for me. Just to see it, I feel like I'll never get lost. It also reminds me of home.

Of course, the beaches here don't even compare to the beaches back home.

Anyways. I continued along and somehow entered into the cute little downtown area. This also reminds me of home. With its cute little colorful shops and palm trees and plentiful eateries.

I might have fallen in love.

It surprised me how happy I did feel driving through the colorful little downtown. I hadn't expected what I had wandered into and how much it reminded me of our cute little downtown back home. Except with bigger buildings and more traffic and people surrounding it.

I felt like maybe, just maybe, I could be happy here. With these cute little shops and restaurants. The vibe just felt right to me - comfortable and normal. Like I was right back to where I belonged.

This might not ever really be my home, but it might not be so bad in the interim.

After all, you know what they say: home is where the heart is.

I know where my heart resides and it's not in those cute little colorful shops or funky restaurants. No matter how bright or unique or lovely they all were, they'll never quite compare to home.

*photo = cute downtown area i speak of

don't drive and take pictures, it's dangerous, you know

on this day

On this day, August 18th, 2009 (AD, in case anyone wasn't clear), I did the following:

I went on my first job interview in 3.5 years. I have only ever been on two job interviews in my life. And while I know that sounds very pathetic, I have only ever had two jobs in my life. This job isn't exactly what I wanted to be doing, since it is what I just finished doing, but it practically landed in my lap with very little effort, so I couldn't just ignore it. Especially not in this job market.

The interview went very, very well. The people were very nice and friendly. I felt very good about how I interviewed. I left feeling very confident. When I got home (and took a nap) I sent the HR lady a thank you e-mail. Less than one hour later, she called to offer me the job.

So, on this day, August 18th, 2009, I got myself a job. I was unemployed for 4 days. Not even an entire week.

On this day, August 18th, 2009, I finally discovered the water here, on this side of the state! I have to say as soon as I spotted the water, my heart dropped in relief a little. It's been an odd feeling, living here, and not knowing where the heck the water is. I am so accustomed to having the water as my compass that I felt rather unbalanced here.

Also, on this day, August 18th, 2009, I attempted to make my first dinner in my own kitchen for the first time. On the menu was chicken enchiladas. I've never made them before. I didn't have a recipe to follow. So, I just went with what I thought would taste good. It was really a mish-mash of ingredients that sounded right. Black beans, rice, chicken, enchilada sauce, cheese...

It all sounded so good in my head.

But when I tasted my creation, not so good.

So, cooking attempt #1 = FAIL!

And that is what I did on this day, August 18th, 2009.

a few of my favorite things

These are a few of my favorite things from my apartment. After months and months of collecting things, it's wonderful to see everything come together.

1) Pot = target (clearance!) 2) Hand soap = Bath & Body Works

3) Tea Kettle = a gift from my mom 4) Vase = vintage, from Etsy

5) Mugs = Target 6) Travel posters = art.com

7) Lamp = IKEA 8) Bird cage = Target

9) Pillow = IKEA 10) Milk glass bowl = Vintage from etsy; lemons = Target

11) 'Dream Out Loud' = a gift (but I think it's from Hallmark) 12) Bedding = Urban Outfitters; bed = IKEA

13) Picture frame = etsy; picture = vintage polaroid of the grandparents 14) Bird towel = sewn by friend

15) Bird plate = cute little shop in Mykonos, Greece

the one where my life turns into an episode of friends

Except not as funny.

One of my favorite episodes of Friends is the one where Ross buys a couch but it does not fit up the stairs of his apartment complex. Even over the weekend, when we started to load my belongings onto the truck, we would keep saying "pivot!" and laughing hysterically.

Saturday, when I arrived at my apartment complex, things started to go downhill. And the continued on that downhill slope for the rest of the day. No one ever said moving was suppose to be fun (or easy) and alas, it was not.

All day, we had waited on my couch to arrive so that we'd actually have something to sit on. Because aside from my bed, I did not have a stick of furniture to my name. We were using boxes as chairs by 6:30.

Finally, however, the delivery men arrived! We sang a chorus of hallelujah and welcomed them in. Only after building them a bridge to get to the stairs since it had been raining buckets all day and my apartment was suddenly lake front property.

With the rain still falling, they carried my couch up the stairs and (halfway) into the apartment. However, the angle of my entryway and hallway leading to the living room are a bit awkward. The ceilings are, of course, lower there than anywhere else in the apartment.

So with many attempts, many different angles, and one broken light fixture, they declared that it simply would not fit.

At this point, my step-dad and uncle stepped in, trying to help the two delivery men. They tried countless more angles to move the couch inside. To no avail, however.

My step-dad then decided that if they took the front door completely off (!!!) that it surely would fit. So, they took my front door off its hinges and tried again.

But alas, it still would not fit.

This is the point at which I broke down and cried. I got my couch for a killer deal and did not want to have to go pick out a new one and probably spend more money. Then have to go through this all over again.

The men had one more idea, though. They would simply bring the couch through the back balcony doors.

One problem: I live on the second floor.

The men took the couch around back (which had turned into a lake, too) and with two men at the bottom and two men on the balcony, they heaved the couch onto the balcony and through the balcony doors. And finally, safely into my living room.

I would have taken pictures of the ordeal if I had been present to watch it all unfold. I couldn't bring myself to watch, however, and instead stayed in my bedroom to cry.

Now, the apartment comes complete with a lovely sofa because it is never moving from this spot.

the end

"Are you excited?"

I get this question every time I tell some goodbye or tell them I'm moving. The answer is always a resounding no.

Because, the thing is, I'm not excited. I don't want to move. I know it's in my best interest (eventually, at least) to move and go to graduate school. I need to strike out on my own once and for all. Even if it's only for a brief (17 months - who's counting, though?) period in time.

I can only hope this makes me better. Braver and more independent.

It just doesn't seem like a good thing when I'm forced to say goodbye to everyone I know and love. To say farewell to the town I've come to love and know; the town I've come to call home.

However, I'm often reminded that sometimes the hardest things are the best things. That if it wasn't hard, it wouldn't be worthwhile. I just hope that this is the case for me.

It also gives me some sort of comfort that I know that not all of these goodbyes are forever. Those I love the most will not just fade out of my life. The strongest will remain by my side (even if it takes them 3.5 hours to get there) and that gives me hope for the future. Faith in the future.

I haven't even shed a tear yet.

Promising, I think. Because, logically and realistically, I do know that I will come back. This will be my home again.

the longest goodbye: part three

It seems fitting that the last friend on my list of goodbyes for the week should be this one: Lindsey. My life here seems to begin and end with her.

It wasn't until I met Lindsey my sophomore year of high school, that I really felt this town start to become a home to me. She quickly became my best friend. Her family became my family. And life was never the same again.

To understand the kind of person Lindsey is, I will tell you that the first time she ever spoke to me (in English class; halfway through the school year), she turned around in her desk and asked me if I would like to go to the ghetto for the Martin Luther King Jr. Parade.

I thought she was crazy.

And while it's very apparent that Lindsey is, in fact, crazy. I love her just the same. She makes me braver. She makes me more fun. She makes me do dozens of crazy things and I love her for it.

We skipped every other day of high school our junior and senior years. We learned more out there in the real world than cooped up in same stuff classroom. Our adventures ranged from trips to the state park to trips to the beach. And more often than not, involved a lot of shopping and eating out.

It was wonderful.

Lindsey's family became my family. I love her mother, her grandparents, her siblings, and every other person that is in her life. Lindsey's like a magnet - she attracts people to her easily with her smile and wit. There are so many people that fill her life and I feel privileged that I am one of them.

Tonight, I was able to say goodbye to a small handful of them. Each of which garnered promises that I would return for Christmas Eve. Which I always spend with them - one of the reasons it's one of my favorite holidays.

For my little going away dinner, Linds even made her mother's famous lasagna. Which I only ever eat on Christmas Eve at their house, before church. She also made me cupcakes (she is, after all, the queen of cupcakes) with bright yellow frosting since she knows it's become my favorite color.

Lindsey is also currently expecting a baby. Due sometime in the middle of January. I am thrilled to pieces. I am so excited to become an auntie to this sweet little baby.

Especially if she turns out to be a girl.

The baby also provides me the perfect excuse to come back home. And often.

the longest goodbye: part two

There are only a couple days left before the move and it still has yet to really hit me. Tonight really solidified that for me since I didn't even cry when I had to say goodbye to my best friend. It doesn't really even feel like goodbye to me. It's like I'll go into work Saturday and there she'll be.

Only. I wont be going into work Saturday. I'll be moving. I wont see my best friend. I'll be seeing a strangers instead.

I know that it's not forever, but sometimes it really feels that way. Late October is the only day I have on the books to come back home (for the So You Think You Can Dance Tour - woot woot; be jealous) which will be a whirlwind, less than 24 hour deal. At least I will be with my best friend (whose fault it was that I became addicted enough to SYTYCD to go to the tour). But right now, October seems so far away.

Tonight, we went to dinner:





We went back to their cute little house where we watched He's Just Not That Into You and proceeded to have a pretty awesome photo shoot with the three of us (+ Dan, Stacey's boyfriend and Phoenix, their dog).

And then I lingered, like I always do, over goodbye. It took me over two hours to finally get goodbye out and walk out the door. I'm not going to lie, it was pretty damn hard to walk away from them.

She's my best friend and to know that I have to go it alone, without her, is going to be ridiculously hard. There's no one to fall back on. There's no one to cry to. There's no one to come to when I'm in crisis or have the greatest story to share. There's no one to laugh with or force to go to sappy movies or fulfill my cravings of pie or queso or alfredo.

While I know 3.5 hours isn't that far, it certainly feels like it right now.

I left with promises of visits and declarations of love and luck.

And a heavy heart.

Goodbye's don't seem to be getting any easier. They seem to be getting harder, actually.

Especially when you tell your best friend goodbye. Even if it's only until October.

It still hurts like hell.

the longest goodbye: part one

Tonight kicked off my week of goodbyes. Every night this week I have something planned with friends in order to say goodbye to them before I'm off. Without a doubt, this is going to be one of the hardest weeks of my life.

Kate and Shawn were the first on my list of goodbyes. We went to one of our favorite places in town to get the best pizza in town. This local little hole in the wall is also going to be among the things I miss when I move away.

They, in true Kate and Shawn fashion, were late. So, I took some pictures to occupy my time before they turned up for dinner.




It was Kate who turned me onto this wonderful little sport's bar. She took me there for lunch one summer and we've been going back ever since. We always, always get the same thing - a large pepperoni pizza. Which we always - without fail - polish off. Now that she's married, we allow Shawn, her husband, to come along with us. But we make him order his own pizza.

I had got my first job when I was 16. Working as a hostess in a restaurant. Every summer, this girl would came to work there - Kate. It wasn't, however, until the summer after I graduated high school and Kate came back once again to work over the summer, that we really became friends.

That summer was one of the best of my life. We worked (a lot) day and night, almost always together, and hung out during the day and partied the nights away. We drank (a lot) and ate out (a lot) and we had the best time ever (double ever [inside joke]). It was a wonderful, wonderful summer that was filled with friends and late nights and beer pong and jello shots. And Kate.

By the end of summer, we were pretty much inseparable. Best friends, most definitely. She went away to school at the end of the summer, but we remained just as close as she finished college and I began.

Soon after Kate returned home after graduating college, Shawn popped into her life. Shawn and I were pretty much instantaneous friends. So, I was thrilled when Kate decided to keep him. And eventually marry him. I was there, at their side, to witness their relationship start, grow, and finally - last May - watch them wed.



Of course we've had our ups and downs. What friends don't? Life draws people apart. But, luckily, in our case, life's always managed to throw us back together time and time again.

I love Kate and Shawn. They have been wonderful friends to me these past few years; separately and together. I am so lucky to have had them in my life. For all those serious and crazy (sometimes drunken) moments that have been scattered throughout the years of our friendship.

And I will miss them something fierce.

nonprofit management

Now that I'm getting down to the wire, more and more people - from friends to strangers - are beginning to ask me what the heck is making me move (especially when I always seem so dang reluctant about it). The answer that follows is always graduate school. And with that answer comes yet another question: what are you getting your master's in? When I respond with nonprofit management, I am always, always met with a blank stare.

No one seems to know just what nonprofit management is.

To be honest, I didn't know such a degree existed until last December myself. After my second attempt at the GRE (Graduate Record Exam aka The Worst Test You Will Ever Take in Your Entire Life) didn't go so well and my initial plans of going to graduate school for social work were rapidly going out the window, I began to research other options. Graduate school was always the next step for me, I just had to figure out what I would be going to school for.

I searched aimlessly through my state's universities in hopes of finding something that would click. And that would accept me despite my horrendous GRE scores. Not an easy task, I assure you.

Especially since I had absolutely no idea what it was I wanted to do with my life. With only a few weeks left until I graduated from undergrad with a bachelors in psychology, I was feeling the pressure to figure out what I was going to be when I grew up. I have never been one of those people who always knew what they wanted to be when they grew up. It's ranged from doctor to veterinarian to grocery store clerk to the Queen of England. My passion has never been focused in just one place. It's rather fluid, actually. Leaping from one place to another at a moment's notice. I consider myself a wanderer, a searcher. So, all of that combined made it even harder to focus my efforts and choose a graduate program.

My sophomore year of college, I buckled down and picked psychology as my major. That's where the bulk of my passion was concentrated (at the moment, at least) and I knew it was the right choice for me. It also gave me a solid base to stand on for the ultimate goal of social work. So, I take all of the appropriate steps to take myself even closer to that goal. Only, the plans started to fall through and my passion began to drift and I knew that it was not the right choice for me.

I'm proud of my psychology degree. Psychology will always endlessly fascinate me. It will always be a passion. But, on it's own, it's useless. I knew that jumping in, but I jumped anyways. And I'll never regret that.

Besides, my second choice was even less practical (English) so all things considered, it was a good choice. And gave me solid ground to stand on for when I made the ultimate choice to apply to the graduate program in nonprofit management.

When I first discovered the master's of nonprofit management, it instantly clicked with me. Not only is it a more practical degree (management!) it combines my need to do something good and useful for society. The only requirement I've ever had for my career goals is that it involves helping people in some way and makes a difference. The curse of a do-gooder.

So, what exactly is nonprofit management?

The simple answer is basically that it gives me the tools I need to work in a nonprofit (a charity, if you will, ie: The Red Cross, Salvation Army, etc). It will also enable me to write grants, run a business, raise money, and basically all those other important managerial skills one needs.

When I answer what is nonprofit management with this, I often earn more blank stares and head scratches. The nonprofit gets people, I think. I've never claimed I would do something that would make me a millionaire (I mean, I'm certainly not against it) the real goal in all of this is to simply make a difference; to do some good for the world I'm a apart of. That's what influenced this choice.

People don't often understand that deep desire of mine, however.

And then, after that long-winded (and probably not fully understood) answer to what nonprofit management is, I get this question: So, what are you going to do with that?

My answer is usually the same: I don't know.

It's true. I don't really know. Obviously, the goal is to work in a nonprofit some day. To run one, really. Particularly doing something that I'm passionate about. I'm just not sure where, exactly, this degree will get me. Some place wonderful, I hope.

I do admit that I have a dream. A dream that was once forgotten, but quickly remembered once I stumbled upon this degree. A dream that I hope will one day be realized. I hope, I hope...

For now, I'm getting my master's in nonprofit management. What, exactly, I'm doing with it, I wont know until I get there. But, eventually, I believe this will lead to the ultimate goal I have - the once forgotten dream of mine.

I hope, I hope...

*photo: rome, italy. trevi fountain