(no subject)
I'm killing time between classes on what i guess you could call my "lunch hour." On Mon, Wed and Fri I take four 50 minute classes. I haven't had a schedule like this since high school, but i don't really mind. I prefer the shorter classes due to my attention span that is worse than a toddler's.
I've been in Miami now for almost 3 weeks. It still just feels like a long vacation, like i'm gonna go back to my life at Grandma's house when it's over. It's really just the beginning of a long 2 years that will probably end up flying by. We move into our South Beach apartment next weekend. I feel like an anxious little kid on a long car trip. I just can't wait to be there! I wanna move in, explore the building, set up my bedroom and call it home. Right now I feel like I have three houses, and not one of them is home. I could stay at my mom's house anytime, or go sleep in my bed which is still at grandma's, and then there is the empty spare bedroom room that holds my air matress and clothes at Nadia's. But as I was driving back from Lincoln Road last night, slightly tipsy, I wanted that feeling of home. Home to me is when you're driving back after a long night, and you drive to your destination without even thinking twice about it. One minute you're leaving a parking garage, and the next minute you're pulling in your driveway. After I moved in with Grandma, it took awhile for my mind to get used to the route, and for it to feel natural. Soon enough Jefferson Avenue will feel like my home.
Although I miss everyone, I wouldn't say I'm homesick. The only reason I went home last weekend is because Nadia was busy, and I wasn't gonna go out and party by myself down here. There was no point in being in Miami. It's just a little lonely here because I haven't made any friends yet. But when we move into our new building and I start working, I'm sure it won't be too hard.
Ultimately I think everything has been going pretty well for me down here. I'm so scared of screwing things up, or ending up miserable and depressed. I keep analyzing my whole life, and asking myself if I'm really truly happy. I can honestly say the answer is yes. I wanted to get out of West Palm, and I waited for so long to do it. I'm finally here, and it's what I wanted. I wanted to live on South Beach, and find a major that I like. The job situation is coming along. I get along with my roommate. Coco is happy. What more can I ask for at this point?
I've been in Miami now for almost 3 weeks. It still just feels like a long vacation, like i'm gonna go back to my life at Grandma's house when it's over. It's really just the beginning of a long 2 years that will probably end up flying by. We move into our South Beach apartment next weekend. I feel like an anxious little kid on a long car trip. I just can't wait to be there! I wanna move in, explore the building, set up my bedroom and call it home. Right now I feel like I have three houses, and not one of them is home. I could stay at my mom's house anytime, or go sleep in my bed which is still at grandma's, and then there is the empty spare bedroom room that holds my air matress and clothes at Nadia's. But as I was driving back from Lincoln Road last night, slightly tipsy, I wanted that feeling of home. Home to me is when you're driving back after a long night, and you drive to your destination without even thinking twice about it. One minute you're leaving a parking garage, and the next minute you're pulling in your driveway. After I moved in with Grandma, it took awhile for my mind to get used to the route, and for it to feel natural. Soon enough Jefferson Avenue will feel like my home.
Although I miss everyone, I wouldn't say I'm homesick. The only reason I went home last weekend is because Nadia was busy, and I wasn't gonna go out and party by myself down here. There was no point in being in Miami. It's just a little lonely here because I haven't made any friends yet. But when we move into our new building and I start working, I'm sure it won't be too hard.
Ultimately I think everything has been going pretty well for me down here. I'm so scared of screwing things up, or ending up miserable and depressed. I keep analyzing my whole life, and asking myself if I'm really truly happy. I can honestly say the answer is yes. I wanted to get out of West Palm, and I waited for so long to do it. I'm finally here, and it's what I wanted. I wanted to live on South Beach, and find a major that I like. The job situation is coming along. I get along with my roommate. Coco is happy. What more can I ask for at this point?