So, to catch up with the last few months: I was accepted into City Year, I finished the mules thesis (for now), I graduated with a rainbow of honors cords around my neck, I moved back home to work at the convenience store for the fifth summer in a row, and I started the apparently endless search for roommates and an apartment.
But I think that's almost over. At least, it better be almost over, since I start City Year in less than a month, and Julie said she's really rather I didn't live on her couch for a month. The good news is that the stipend apparently went up a bit, so I'll be slightly less poor next year! Still frighteningly close to qualifying for food stamps, but whatever. It'll hopefully be a really good chance to change lives and have a positive influence in the world, and that's the important thing.
So, yeah. Tell your representatives in Washington not to cut funding from Americorps, because they already have almost no money to give to their volunteers who are trying to make this country a better place. We'd like to be able to eat some food while saving America, thank you very much.
It's weird to think that I'll be moving in a few weeks, to a totally new city. And yeah, my sister lives there, so I won't be totally alone, but it's still a bit terrifying. After all, I don't want to rely on her too much. No one wants to be the annoying older sister who hangs out with her younger sister's friends because she doesn't have any friends of her own. And I've definitely lost enough friends over the years to doubt my friend-making abilities, so that's a bit unnerving, too.
I guess moving to a new place will be good for me. I'm pretty sure if I stayed here I'd spend even more time with my parents than I do now, and I"m already starting to miss people my own age. So yay! Fresh start!
And yet I can't stop comparing my move into the "real world" with my parents'. When they were my age, they were already married. Mom moved out of her parents' house after graduating from college a semester early and straight into Dad's apartment. Dad lived on his own for a few months, but Mom helped him pay for his (soon to be their) apartment - and he was getting paid a hell of a lot more than I am. They had each other, and while I know I have an amazing support system in my family, I still feel pretty lonely. Asking a fiance to help pay for an apartment is a lot different than asking your parents. And crying on your parents' shoulders when you're overwhelmed is comforting, but you feel like you're about five years old again, which just makes you feel worse. (This is all hypothetical, of course.) I know I'm a strong, independent woman, and that plenty of other twenty-somethings have also gone out on their own - some with far fewer resources than I have - but it's still tough.
Okay, enough moping. It feels so much better to get it out there, even if no one I know reads it. (Actually, on second thought, it's probably better if no one I know reads this.) I always forget how therapeutic blogging can be.
No comments:
Post a Comment