truth: I can't even begin to process the fact that this is my last weekend in provo as a resident ever.
truth: I'm gonna miss Brock the way I miss diet coke when I'm home for a visit.
truth: it's really time to go.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Friday, August 5, 2011
Chicago
I have about a week before I leave Provo forever. I'm going to put everything I own in my beat up toyota corolla and drive from UT to OH one more time. I'm going to be leaving a lot behind, and I don't just mean my old clothes and endless collection of collage purpose magazines.
In some ways I feel like I never came back from Germany, not really. I missed Provo so incredibly bad in ways that surprised me when I was in Bremen. I had one foot back there always. But when I came back, and I decided to stay instead of getting my return flight back most of what I missed I never regained. I never had the summer night bikerides, the impromptu dance parties, the gargantuan mona trips, the saver's hunting trips, the comfortable feeling of being able to walk up to any number or porches and just hang out. Something had changed, and it seems most likely that something was me.
That was more than a year ago. A summer of premed classes at UVU that now just seem like an endless blur of sweaty bike rides with a borrowed backpack, apathetic teachers yawning at huge classrooms of males wearing polos and me in a sweaty dress, and then biking back to study in my beloved but cranky Hugh B. Brown with no AC. It was a hard summer, and I felt full of apathy, which is something that surprised me. So then I decided to apply for MFA programs in the fall. And here I am, about to enroll.
If there had been jobs for me here, or an opportunity for more education that would have been beneficial I would have stayed. Despite the detachment, despite being in provo but not being in the provo that I had missed so horribly, I probably would have stayed. I feel tired deep down, tired of starting over, of making decisions, of not knowing what will happen, of being alone. But in my heart I know it was not a matter or wanting a change, I needed a change.
So among the apprehensive feelings I have about making such a drastic change, I'm surprised to feel such hope.
In some ways I feel like I never came back from Germany, not really. I missed Provo so incredibly bad in ways that surprised me when I was in Bremen. I had one foot back there always. But when I came back, and I decided to stay instead of getting my return flight back most of what I missed I never regained. I never had the summer night bikerides, the impromptu dance parties, the gargantuan mona trips, the saver's hunting trips, the comfortable feeling of being able to walk up to any number or porches and just hang out. Something had changed, and it seems most likely that something was me.
That was more than a year ago. A summer of premed classes at UVU that now just seem like an endless blur of sweaty bike rides with a borrowed backpack, apathetic teachers yawning at huge classrooms of males wearing polos and me in a sweaty dress, and then biking back to study in my beloved but cranky Hugh B. Brown with no AC. It was a hard summer, and I felt full of apathy, which is something that surprised me. So then I decided to apply for MFA programs in the fall. And here I am, about to enroll.
If there had been jobs for me here, or an opportunity for more education that would have been beneficial I would have stayed. Despite the detachment, despite being in provo but not being in the provo that I had missed so horribly, I probably would have stayed. I feel tired deep down, tired of starting over, of making decisions, of not knowing what will happen, of being alone. But in my heart I know it was not a matter or wanting a change, I needed a change.
So among the apprehensive feelings I have about making such a drastic change, I'm surprised to feel such hope.
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