On Saturday I can go snowboarding here:
There go the boys bombing down the mountain!
Followed by a lovely, lazy Sunday spent here:
A sky so clear that Catalina is in plain view.
A quiet beach after a day in the snow
I’m a girl who can’t make up her mind and wants to experience a little bit of everything. California has not only encouraged my curiosity of all things but nurtured my indecisive nature. I want to bomb down mountains, climb rocks in the desert, hike in the hills to the Hollywood sign, camp on a beach bluff (or a redwood forest), tan on the sand and splash in the ocean. Should I have to choose? Never, at least not while I call California home. This past weekend of juxtaposed but mismatching activities has fed my soul and inner kid. What a great way to kick off spring break. 🙂
Despite the fact that within the past 5 years, I have only lived in a handful of places and have (save for this past fall semester) remained at one university, I feel as though I’ve been living out of a suitcase for practically the whole time. OK, part of that stems from the fact that it has taken me up to 2 months to unpack a single bag. However, splitting my life (and my myriad of what I’m starting to realize as way-too-many-unnecessary-belongings) between two temporary places in two different states for my whole college career has often left me wondering where I consider home. While I’ve spent the majority of time in one city, up until my return from Lausanne, I was living in a campus dorm, the epitome of a house that’s not a home. I never stayed longer than a span of three months before packing a suitcase and going to my parent’s place the next state over. Once there, I wouldn’t remain for more than a couple months before hauling back to university.
Compound that with the fact that neither place is where I grew up, that mid-sized town being 3,000 miles away in New England, and you’ve got one housed-yet-homeless girl. Thus, I always felt distanced from the actual walls and bed that kept me warm and sheltered. My old bedroom back home has relics of my young life rendered almost meaningless with time, but nothing new adorns it, except maybe another box of stuff I didn’t feel like taking back to California. I always meant to spruce up my dismal, tiny space in the dorms, but I was lucky if a Post-it made it on the walls let alone the hundreds of photos I wanted to put up. Keep reading…
Oh that’s right. At my new place. Sitting at my new desk. In my old city. It’s been almost a month since I left Swtizerland, and I fell right smack into a whirlwind of activity, mainly a semester that had already begun without me. Which leaves me again, behind and trying to catch up. Still, the productivity and just the pure energy of movement itself fills my days with more warmth than that big ol’ sun outside my window.
I’ve returned to finish what I’ve started, to finally earn my B.A. in Journalism with minors in International Studies and French. It is strange to be back on my campus, same halls, same place, same weird smell of those really pretty flowers that unfortunately give off the most wretched odor when in bloom. It carries this appealing paradox of being exactly the same while also slightly different. This time around, I’m not trying to get back ‘into the swing of things’ or falling into my old routines. I’m trying to start new ones, healthier and more fulfilling ones instead without going way over my head.
How you say? A little at a time, I say. I’m prone to grandeur ambitions of all kinds, which often leave me starting several projects at once only to drop them after not even a few days. However, now I hope to make deliberate, albeit small, improvements on my life and well-being that I can actually hold onto.
Keep tuned in for upcoming posts about some of the small changes I’m making day-to-day.