Wednesday, September 26, 2007

To tell you the truth...

I'm not really happy here.
I know that I need to transform my mindset or else this will be a terrible year. I know. And I'm sure I will. (I'm pretty sure I said the same thing about camp, which helps affirm me that it will happen.) But seriously.

I don't like living in the 'city.' In quotes because I suspect I would feel differently if we lived in a different part of the city.

I'm sick of being called "white girl." Yeah, it's weird to be the minority. But it's not just race. Race isn't a big deal to me. Besides my roommates, I'm the only 20-something I interact with.

I'm sick of watching my every step to make sure a discarded needle doesn't puncture a hole through my shoe. Through me.

I'm sick of people having no respect for themselves, for others, for their environment. Every day my clients tell me, "I'm going to stop using." Then they tell me the same thing the next week. And the next.

Today I was walking down a street near where I work and I truly couldn't believe the amount of trash on the grass next to the sidewalk. It's across from a methadone clinic, so a lot of people stand there to smoke or hang out or whatever, but there was a trash can literally 10 feet away. The city where I live has no hope. So people don't care about themselves or their world.

I miss parks that are safe to lie down in.
I miss being able to see for miles.
I miss tree-covered landscapes.
I miss dirt roads.
I miss the way people from small towns acknowledge each other.
I miss going to convenience stores that you can wander around in. (The ones here only allow you to enter a portioned-off front section. The rest of the store is behind a wall of bullet-proof glass.)
I miss feeling like I'm home.
I miss Markus.
I miss my mom. And gramma. And papa.
And the list goes on.

What to do, dear reader? What to do?

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

The sound of sirens

I don't know why sirens don't make the same sound in different cities, but apparently they don't.
When I hear sirens here (I'm not sure if they're police, fire, or ambulance, mostly because they sound so strange) I have to pause a moment and concentrate before I realize what they are.

Last night as I was getting ready for bed, I convinced myself that I could hear the loud wailing of ghosts in this creepy old convent.
Then I realized it was the wailing of sirens from a mile or so away.


Monday, September 10, 2007

Cake. eat it too.

I'm feeling a bit less stressed. Still all the same stuff to do but yesterday Markus and I were online at the same time, so we got to send each other guest list after revised guest list and look at gowns on TheKnot. It was really fun. Woot to the wonders of technology.

Tuesday, September 4, 2007

Stressed is just desserts spelled backwards

(I really have been eating too many desserts as a result of this stress)

I'm stressing out a bit about life. I don't even like to be stressed, so why do I keep doing it?

Here's the thing:

I've got real life stuff to be thinking about. One set of thoughts are about my immediate surroundings... like getting used to my new life, Baltimore, my roommates, living in community, working with people who have a terrible disease. It's a lot.

Then there is my professional life. I decided about 3 weeks ago that I don't want to go to med school. And by 'decided' I mean 'voiced'. I think I may have decided a year ago. Who knows. So anyway, I just started researching this whole PA thing and it looks like I've missed nearly every deadline. Because for some reason you have to apply to PA schools more than a year ahead of time. Whatever. So I'll probably have to take (another) year off. This situation becomes more complicated by the fact that I am looking only for PA programs that are near Army bases Markus could potentially be transferred to. We thought I would apply to programs and Markus would apply to be transferred near them, and then wherever he ended up would be okay, because there would be a school there that I had been accepted to. Now we're just going to have to choose somewhere that I'll be likely to get in, move, and cross our fingers. Blaaaaaaaaah.

This is enough to keep me busy. Seriously.

And then I get phone calls from my mom.
And faxes while I'm at work.
Telling me that if I don't choose a photographer and DJ now, we're in deep shit. OOoooKkkk.... can someone please tell me how I'm supposed to choose a photographer that is within our price range when only large (expensive) studios have websites? Does anyone know of a great photographer that likes to take beautiful candid shots (who is also inexpensive) that lives in the Erie area? Ack.

Ack. Ack.

Oh, another question.
When you move to a new city, where do you go to meet friends?