France and Italy: Here we come!

T-3 Days

This Could Be Your Life

That's how I felt when I went home. If I had made a few different choices, I saw what could have been my life. I could have a beautiful home, or a home at least, with matching furniture and color schemes. I would wear cute Midwest clothes and talk as passionately about the Pampered Chef Mandolyn as I do now about Czech theatre design. I would probably be a little heavier (good ole Midwest cooking) and have a little more in my checking account. I would see my cousins and aunts on a regular basis and my accent would be that much stronger.
I would also be much closer acquainted with cancer and all of its side effects. I would know about the different stages of pregnancy (via my pregnant best friend) and I would have a severe caffeine addiction due to the extra pocket money and proximity to yummy coffee shops.
I would probably be married by now. Possibly thinking of starting a family (I'm that age, you know). Or I would be the family gypsy in Madison, doing as much theatre as possible, and going out much more often to the downtown bars and Chicago revelling in my singularity.
I feel surprisingly indifferent to this alternate life. It didn't make me want to scream. It's an alternative, a back-up in case the whole PhD thing isn't what it's cracked up to be. Though I admit to being a little bit envious of the beautiful houses and seamless, effortless organization (particularly after spending the last day and a half struggling to find a place for everything in my apartment without making it look too cluttered). Am I jealous enough to want it over what I have? No. I can't say I regret the choices I made because I know if I hadn't made them, I would be restless. I was always plotting how to get away. The irony is that now that I am away I daydream about plots that will take me back. But it's not restless that propels these thoughts, but nostalgia. I have a wonderful town and family to go home to. It's my beacon.

Off Yonder hey

Tomorrow I head east to the Midwest. It's truly a different world, different rhythms, a completely different way of life. It's also a different life, a different identity. It's a compressed world. In California, I stretch myself out across the country, from NYC talking to Beth, Ohio with Amanda and Casey, my central base of Chicago with my girls, but the heart is in Wisconsin. Where the world is Fillmore Avenue and you can roll a bowling ball down the streets at 9 pm and where everybody, yes EVERYbody knows my name. And my history. For better or worse.
I am not a bitter smalltown girl. This town has supported me and raised me. They took a bus to see my play. When my friend Dawn went to State for Track, she was escorted back home by the police and fire departments. This town loves and nurtures her children.
I am excited, anxious, impatient, and curious to how California will look from a distance. How my perspective might change, how lines will blur, or maybe, even scarier, how it won't look any different.

And as quickly as they came...
They were gone. My curls deemed California no longer safe. I am back to straight hair with an unruly flip.
I have also moved into Summer Part 2. The first half was ruled by a (almost) 40 hour lifeguarding work week. It's the closest thing to returning to corporate life since my career as a technical writer. I packed a lunch 4 days a week and was on the regular corporate schedule. The other day pulled me from my bed kicking and screaming at 5 am but I was luckily finished at 1 pm. I worked with kids every day which was a nice break from college students (whom are now my colleagues).
Now I am down to 13 hours + sub shifts. It's more relaxed and will bend even more as the traveling begins. Next week- Wisconsin and in September- France and Italy. Ashley and I have been planning for so long and talking about it for so long (between 7 and 8 months) that I can't believe it's really coming up.
Of course the summer has flown by. Not so predicable is that I am starting to (dare I say it) look forward to school starting? Hmmm...that's still a little drastic. I can however start to put my head around being back in class. Given my state at the end of last quarter, this is something I wasn't sure was going to actually happen. So I am pleasantly surprised to find myself thinking of the Fall without involuntarily shuddering.
Unfortunately, my body won't be responding to the same physical cues I have grown up with. In California, the air does not get cooler, the leaves do not change, and you don't start wearing sweaters in when school begins. Autumn does not come until December. Even last year, the season started to change before I moved here so I was ready for it. We'll see, but luckily I have a lot time before then. An entire summer if you will. That is something you have to love about academia.