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.

thoughts on big city living

The first time I saw the skyline of the city I would be working in and going to school in, my heart sank.

Hello big city.

I am, admittedly, from a small midwestern town (hello sterotype!). My hometown boasts 2000 residents, where everyone knows everyone, and all roads lead home. The epitome of a small town.

When I moved to the town I now call home, where there were 48,000 more people with interstates, roads with a speed limit over 25 miles per hour, a true downtown filled with bars and retuarants, it was what I believed a big (ish) town to be like. It was, of course, much, much larger than any town I'd ever lived in.

My sophomore year of highschool, I boldly proclaimed that I was going to be a journalist. In New York City. I'd write for the Times and live in a cute little loft, walking everywhere in the city in my 3 inch Jimmy Choo's. That was the life. That was my dream.

I was a city girl. No big, open county for me, no small town living. Not for this girl. It was the city life for me.

And then I took journalism and that idea went rapidly out the window.

But I still clung to that long-held idea that I was destined for a big city. Full of life and lights. Not that I'd ever lived in a big city before, but the image was so dramatized and brilliant in my head that I couldn't think of myself anywhere else.

Then, the roots began to grow into the town I now call home and my wings were clipped. There was no need for the hustle and bustle of a big city. I had a home. As big as I believed it to be filled with familiarities and loved ones.

The dream was changed - I dreamt of cultivating the roots I had put down in my beautiful city.

In an attempt to better myself, I uprooted myself and moved.

The town I currently live in is nothing to write home about. The city I work and go to school in, however, is a true big city, on the outskirts of a major US city. Compared to places like NYC, Chicago, and LA, the population is only a drop in the bucket. But to this smalltown girl, it's certainly big city living.

According to the census, there are 180,000 people.

I am quite certain that all 180,000 people are on the interstate when I want to go to work/school/Target.

Four weeks into big city living has me thinking I'll never be acclimated to living in a big city such as this. How anyone could get use to the traffic is beyond me.

The traffic! Oh, the traffic!

I once thought 20 minutes was a long time to get anywhere. My daily commute is double that. If traffic's good. My average speed on the interstate is probably 50 MPH simply because of the sheer volume of cars. I swear that I nearly get into an accident (or two) every day. It is sheer insanity.

The moral of the story? Big city life ain't for me.

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