Walking for pleasure.

Have you ever taken a walk... just for fun? Not for exercise or to get anywhere in particular, just because you wanted to capture a peaceful moment in time? I did this today (almost - I was walking home from lunch, so my purpose WAS to make it home at some point...) But I just leisurely strolled. And it was surprisingly pleasant. Many of you know, that in an effort to make up for my extremely short legs, I have adopted a fast-paced style of walk. But I ignored my need for speed and slowed my usual pace. It's amazing the things you can notice if you're really looking. Like the uneven cobblestones lining the sidewalk. Like the homeless man muttering obscenities under his breath as he briskly passes by. Like the two men smoking in the stairwell of a building as they animatedly (and loudly) argue about who will likely be the next president of the United States. Did I mention they have the strongest Boston accents I have heard since moving to Massachusetts? Their brute attitude makes me smile. As I walk I keep noticing the color of the sky (this might sound lame - but I appreciate a blue, blue sky), the mangy-looking birds pecking at street garbage, the $1 books for sale. I scan the titles for anything I would by remotely interested in reading, but only come up with, "Mansfield Park" by Jane Austen. Pass.

I am happy to have this moment. A peaceful 10-minute walk home has done something, nurturing almost, for my spirit. I can't remember the last time I didn't have to hurry somewhere, meet some deadline, busy myself with a combination of school, work, and expectation. I am happy to be relieved of an albatross of pressure that I brought upon myself in the past several months. The fall semester of 2011 is a whirlwind of manic memories, each lived with purpose but not with peace. Last semester can't even be described with words. While I was moving, working, in school, attempting to make new friends, attempting to keep up relationships with old friends, and managing my heart and emotions in the midst of unknown circumstances... well, needless to say, my heart got weary. And it needed some rearranging. This blog was the least of my priorities and I let it go slack. However, I realize that writing is the best way for me to organize my brain waves. I won't even try to explain the semester away. I will just let it pass into my memories and I move forward with more purpose. And hopefully a bit more peace. Perhaps this new-found hope is a several-week delay of "new years' resolution" feelings, but I don't mind being behind the times. Happily, I can watch the clock and measure my time without it escaping me. Masquerading as my friend and then stabbing me in the back with a mean and gleeful "haha, you lost your day to me AGAIN!" Does this make any sense? It doesn't have to. My body is starting to come into balance with my brain. And my heart. And my scary dreams.

Why are our dreams so scary? There are moments when you feel like you are closing in on your dream, so close to achieving it that you can smell it, taste it, make plans around it. And then there are those elusive moments, where you feel SO FAR from it. How will you ever get there? What about all the other factors that will, without a doubt, hold you back from achievement? Achieving. I wish there were another word to describe the bridge between your dream imagined and your dream in reality. "Achieve" just sounds so... accomplished. But I want a word that begs for more creativity and free-form than "achieve." Whatever. I would just like to see my dreams achieved. Could this be my year? The past few weeks have had me feeling closer, although my situation has changed very little. I am still a girl in undergrad, studying far away from her actual university, supporting the man of her dreams in his search for HIS dream (we talk about dreams A LOT in our little family), while braving the cold and mysterious and wonderful Boston winter. Well, Cambridge, to be exact.

Yes, I probably sound loopy. I probably sound much too day-dreamy and self-centered and just, LAME. But at least I'm alive. And I'm back! Bring on the sun.

Season to Party

As a final farewell to our dearest loved ones, we had a few get-togethers to remember all the fun.

I vowed not to cry.

The First of the Lasts

We sold all our lamps. Well, technically, we sold everything. But when you sell all your lamps, you lose your light. In an apartment that has NO overhead lighting, those lamps are pretty important. Which I quickly realized, when I came home from work one day and found my husband packing like this.

So we sold the lamps and everything else, packed our clothes, and moved out. We said goodbye to Vinings. Then we said hello (again) to Fayetteville. Oh, to move back in with the parents. Pure awesome. I've been swimming in their sweet pool.

We are down to 12 days until we move. 12 more days of Atlanta bliss. 12 more days of cheesy Stevie photos.

Out with the Old

The summer is whizzing by. I am holding on to it by a thread. Before I know it, autumn will be here to kick me out of my home state. Slightly frightening.

My home is in shambles. We've sold furniture, the kind of furniture that holds the pieces of your life together. Books, movies, letters, bills, clothes... we take for granted the darling little contraptions known as SHELVES and BOOKCASES that assist in organizing the stuff of our lives in an aesthetically pleasing manner. All the items that once populated my furniture are now strewn across the floor in little piles that are building an empire against me. Oh, how I loathe the piles. And they know it, too. Sometimes when I get home, I feel like the piles have grown taller. They might be plotting against me. 

We just have crap everywhere. It's grossing me out.

Good thing: We had our garage sale, and it was a successful day. We really purged stuff. We are trying to simplify our life so that move as little as possible with us. There is just no need to haul junk all over the country and then try to find a place to put it. We only need the essentials. We will be re-building when we move. Ikea better get ready.

We are currently trying to figure out how to store our bikes when we get up there. There is no storage in our building, so I guess we could lock them up on the street, but that seems like a broken lock waiting to happen. 

The best thing that happened to me and Stevie was 4th of July. We packed up our car (her name is Penny) and we got out of town for the weekend to celebrate our 4 year anniversary. Four years! We almost can't believe it. We went down to Rosemary Beach, which is located between Destin and Panama City. It was such a peaceful and relaxing weekend. We actually processed what in the world is happening to us. Sometimes when you're in such a "go, go, GO!" -mode, you tend to become desensitized to living. I have to remember that I am a human being, not a human doing. I've been doing a lot of "stuff" but not really living the fact that this is my last summer in Georgia. I don't know when or if we will ever move back here. So I want to really live. Not just run around with to-do lists and errands and chores. Sorry for the rant. Back to Rosemary. It was awesome. So awesome, in fact, that we only took 2 photos the entire time we were there.

All in all, our trip was a much-needed break from reality. And now we're back to reality. Pass the moving bins.

White Trash Saturday

Oh, I'm gearing up for it. GARAGE SALE!!!!!!!

That's right, and everything must go. We are selling our stuff like mad!

I am thrilled, because I am really going to work the white trash angle of the garage sale tomorrow. I'm talking cut-off jean shorts, white wifebeater tank, black bra, barefoot, beer in hand. It's the only way. And Stevie will be properly attired in cut-off jean shorts and boots. No shirt. Absolutely no problem.

It's going to be AWESOME. Come and join our fun!

We are moving into the following teensy-weensy apartment: (Praise Him, we finally found a place.)