It's October

It is more than a little hard to believe that it is October. I mean, I am still referring to events that happened back in March like they were yesterday. Because, like, that totally just happened last month. YOU know, in March. Last month!

I have such mixed feelings about the speed at which time is passing. On the one hand, I am so incredibly excited for March 21st, I can barely stand it. I want it here NOW. But on the other, I love October and Fall and Thanksgiving. And, holy crap, October ends in 7 days. And now I'm just depressed.

But, back to March 21st.

THAT is the date that decides our future. THAT is the date when we find out where W has matched for residency. THAT is the date that our entire our apartment will be packed up and I will be hightailing it out of here for our future home. It might not end up being our forever home, but 5-6 years in one place will feel like forever after all of the hop, skip and jumping around we've been doing over the last five years. Because in the last five years, I have lived FIVE different places.

Let's recap:

May 2009 - I graduated from the College of Charleston.

June 2009 - I left my beloved Charleston, SC to move back home (Florence, SC) until our wedding.

July 2009 - Married W.

August 2009 - Moved into W's mom's basement in Columbia, SC. Lived there for two weeks before moving into the tiniest little place--still in Columbia, SC.

June 2010 - Moved to Lewisburg, WV so that W could attend medical school.

June 2012 - Moved to Charleston, WV so that W could continue his third and fourth years of medical school (they have a statewide campus for rotations).

April - June 2014 - MOVING SOMEWHERE I DON'T KNOW WHERE!

So, that's Charleston, SC; Florence, SC; Columbia, SC; Lewisburg, WV; Charleston, WV. I like to think I have come full circle ending back up in a Charleston. I am kind of hoping that the universe notices this symmetry and balance that I have achieved in my life and cuts a girl some slack in our next great adventure.

The next 3 months will see W and I traveling all over the eastern half of the United States for his residency interviews. I am thrilled at the prospect of getting to see places in the US I may never have occasion to visit. But, you better believe, I will be in hardcore scope-out mode. Any one of those places could be our home in less than 6 months. Mind blown.

W has suddenly turned all superstitious and won't let me peep a word to the general public about his residency interviews, but I just can't help myself. Here they are in the vaguest terms ever.

He has one interview in the Midwest. My feelings are pretty bleh about the prospect of living in this particular Midwest city, because its not anything major or special, EXCEPT for the residency program. Its kind of insane that W got it. But, its freaking cold there. I'm so over snow.

He has one interview in New England. This one kind of makes me squeal every time I think about it!

He has one interview in the Northeast. This one also kind of makes me squeal in equal parts delight and fright.

He has one interview in Dixie. I actually wouldn't mind this one at all. It would be a new time zone!

He has several interviews in the mountains. I am indifferent to these. I would prefer coast, obviously!

He has a couple in SC, which thrill me to no end at the thought of being closer to family.

So there you have it. He is still getting emails daily. And, of course, not all of them are interviews. There have been rejections. At this point, the interview invitations far outweigh the rejects! Thank all that is holy for that.

Here is what you've missed (through no fault of your own--I am the delinquent blogger here):

Went apple picking with this nut and W's whole family.

Cap and I made a mistake, but we looked cute doing it!

W TURNED 30!

Can you believe I am married to a 30 year old? Me either.

Coming up on this here blog:

I've been so incredibly bored lately. So, I've taken to over-designing the apartment. And since interior design is really one of my great joys in life, I have decided to start sharing more about it! Tomorrow's post will feature a $12 upgrade to my cheap ass curtains.

See you then!

-b

Quarter-Life Crisis

I am technically a year late for this--well, a year and a half to be precise, but who's counting? NOT ME, obviously. Case in point:

During a conversation with Cap and J a week or so ago, I said, "I mean I'm 26 years old for crying out loud!" Or, something along those lines and I was instantly struck by an icy chord of fear.

"Wait," I said, turning to Cap. "I'm 26, right?"

{This song was my jam about, oh, fifteen years ago! 

And is very fitting for this story. Play it in the background!}

She looked at me like the idiot that I am was.

"Um, yeah," she said.

"How old are you?" I asked accusingly, still not quite believing it.

"25," she said. "You're 26." DUMMY is I'm sure a word she would have liked to add to the end of that statement.

Circa-1970 dress found at the flea market for $15 that I will wear to a fundraiser with Cap on Thursday!

Do you ever do this?

I always think I am 22. ALWAYS.

Sure, I just celebrated my 26th birthday a short 2.5 months ago, but in my mind, I am perpetually 22.

And, when put on the spot about how old I am, I always have to think--like think really hard to remember.

I'm 22. No, that was 2009. This is 2013. That makes me...... ummm....... OH. Twenty-freaking-six. GOD. Now, I'm depressed. Wait, is that right? No, I'm not 26. 1987 subtracted from 2013 is...... DAMN. I am 26.

The gorgeous 1920s cameo W gave me for our fourth anniversary. He done good.

I am sure this is a clinically diagnosable psychological something or other. I am sure there is a medication for it, too.  

Xanax for the emotionally-uptight, touchy-feely-intolerant, one-woman pih-ty pahr-ty, anyone?? Hmm??

I'm not really sure of the significance of the age of 22. I turned 22 three days after graduating college. I married W 2.5 months into being 22. I moved in with W at 22. I had to get a real job at 22--although I really didn't. (My real job as Executive Director of an historical society and museum came at the ripe old age of 23. I know, I thought they were crazy for hiring me, too!)

There's just something about 22, and I'm stuck on it.

But, now, 2.5 months into being 26 and what do I have to show for it?

Some pretty gnarly tan lines from my battles with the spray-on sunscreen and my week at the beach.
A mad case of poison ivy from weeding the garden at work.
A huge, stinky pile of self-loathing for myself and my "work."
A 2 lb. weight loss due to the previously mentioned huge, stinky pile of self-loathing. I'll take it.
Endless day dreams of my perfect job falling from the heavens and flattening me like an unlucky frog victim to a mac truck in the middle of a steamy highway.
(Most likely) in-vain planning of a trip to Greece in May since W and I will most likely not have the time or the money to experience one of our dream vacations for another, oh, five to ten years.
A mild bout of depression about how incredibly stagnant my professional and social life have become in the last two years. Things were looking up, up, up during that first year in WV. Sadly, I've plateaued.

My incredible anniversary dinner: petite filet and prawn. YUM.

Wow. That turned depressing fast.

Enter: Quarter-life Crisis.

What does it mean?

For me, right now, it means:

1. Not saying no.
2. Being spontaneous.
3. Taking risks.
4. Dreaming big.
5. NO MORE FREAKING EXCUSES.

I hope the 23 year olds I met in Junior League will take another chance on me and call me to drink beer with them at the Pittsburgh farm team baseball games. Because, this gluten-free, 26-year-old, museum professional WILL drink some gluten and WILL heckle some baseball players. Granted, the first time I went with them, I stalked the concessions looking for white wine while they drank dollar beer from cups that fill from the bottom (!!). I KNOW. I would like to go back in time and tell myself to shut the eff up and go put on some gosh darn shorts, woman. Y'all, I wore a white button down polo shirt and coral ankle pants and flats. AND, one of them had to explain SnapChat to me. GOD. WHAT HAVE I BECOME. No wonder they never call anymore.

Its now or never. I've got 11 more months of limbo. AKA: FOURTH YEAR MEDICAL SCHOOL HELL. And, I am just not content to sit here and let it creep insignificantly by as I count down the days to the rest of my life. Who wants to live like that anyways? Always watching the calendar, the clock, your life tick, tock by. Its maddening. And, I've had enough.

So, here's to a dirty house, full days and adventure!

I will keep you posted as I try to quickly climb my way out of this slump.

Cap and I have braved the county pool two Sundays in a row!

Quarter-life crises: Do they really exist? Discuss.

-b