Muddy
I can't get my head straight.
I'm not sure exactly what it is. You'd think after hearing back about grad school, I would be completely over the moon with excitement and anticipation. And I am excited, but it's almost as though each new day brings a new worry, a new consideration, a new little black cloud that's blotting out my sunlight.
Suddenly, instead of getting juiced up, I'm sapped out.
It's funny--I've been here in DC for almost six years now, and when I sent in my application, I was so certain that it was time to go. Now I'm feeling like four months isn't enough time to say goodbye to the city that was finally starting to feel like home.
Chicago is a new city, a new place, and I don't really have a solid base there. A few friends and acquaintance and a couple of family members, but not a ready group of pals. No alumni group, no old co-workers and drinking buddies.
What's more, looking at the cost of school brought me right to reality. I certainly won't be living high. I'll be lucky to afford a solid diet of ramen for the next couple of years.
I've been combing the Craig's list ads, looking for afforable housing, watching for deals. It doesn't ease my mind; I hate the uncertainty of not knowing where I'm going to be, whether I'm going to be able to have the dog with me, or if I'll have to have a roommate.
It's not that I'm rethinking my decision--I'm moving in September, however panicky I might be feeling right now. I just feel so insecure and unsure of myself, and it's not a good feeling. What if I'm making the wrong decision? What if I pick the wrong place to live? What if I hate it there? What if I don't make friends?
What if? What if? What if? I feel like a damn broken record, spinning round and round, producing only that sick, warped sounding, slo-motion audio that makes you want to yank the plug out of the wall immediately.
How does one go about calling a time-out of life? I feel like I desperately need one.
I'm not sure exactly what it is. You'd think after hearing back about grad school, I would be completely over the moon with excitement and anticipation. And I am excited, but it's almost as though each new day brings a new worry, a new consideration, a new little black cloud that's blotting out my sunlight.
Suddenly, instead of getting juiced up, I'm sapped out.
It's funny--I've been here in DC for almost six years now, and when I sent in my application, I was so certain that it was time to go. Now I'm feeling like four months isn't enough time to say goodbye to the city that was finally starting to feel like home.
Chicago is a new city, a new place, and I don't really have a solid base there. A few friends and acquaintance and a couple of family members, but not a ready group of pals. No alumni group, no old co-workers and drinking buddies.
What's more, looking at the cost of school brought me right to reality. I certainly won't be living high. I'll be lucky to afford a solid diet of ramen for the next couple of years.
I've been combing the Craig's list ads, looking for afforable housing, watching for deals. It doesn't ease my mind; I hate the uncertainty of not knowing where I'm going to be, whether I'm going to be able to have the dog with me, or if I'll have to have a roommate.
It's not that I'm rethinking my decision--I'm moving in September, however panicky I might be feeling right now. I just feel so insecure and unsure of myself, and it's not a good feeling. What if I'm making the wrong decision? What if I pick the wrong place to live? What if I hate it there? What if I don't make friends?
What if? What if? What if? I feel like a damn broken record, spinning round and round, producing only that sick, warped sounding, slo-motion audio that makes you want to yank the plug out of the wall immediately.
How does one go about calling a time-out of life? I feel like I desperately need one.
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