Goodbye, Life. Hello, Grad School.

My career in graduate school started yesterday.

It's day two, and I'm already exhausted.

Want to know what I've done so far?

READ THE SYLLABI.

Yep. That's it. I've read my three syllabi (and a few other important pieces of information) and recorded due dates and reading schedules in my planner (color coded, of course).

The problem is, I feel as though I've just read four textbooks and written one of my own.

To combat the sense of stress and overwhelmedness* I feel, I've started repeating this mantra to myself:

I am competent and intelligent. I hold a Bachelor's degree. I am grateful for my education. I can do this.

I repeat it over and over and over. I start softly, just as a nice hum behind all of the stressful stirrings that buzz around in my brain, and gradually my mantra grows louder and louder until the stressful stirrings cease for a moment, and I calm down. Let's hope this works for the whole semester.

*I know that's not a real word.

Moving is for the Birds.

I am not a mover.

My first recollection of moving? College.

My parents built the house I grew up in when I was three years old, so I wasn't really involved in the whole pack-it-up-and-move situation. Moving forty-five minutes away to begin my college career was my first moving experience, but moving to college for the first time is different than moving-moving.

When I moved to college, most of my things were still in their bright and pretty packages. I bought or received things I needed (or just wanted), put them in the formal living room just as they were, and when it was time to move, everything was ready to go. My clothes went on a hanging bar in the back of my mom's Yukon. I had luggage for toiletries and other things. It was no big deal (except for the whole "I CANNOT BELIEVE I AM MOVING TO COLLEGE" part).

The second and third years were harder, but not too bad. After all, home was only forty-five minutes away. I could run home and pick something up anytime I needed to. These moves didn't require real packing, just creative situating within rubbermaid boxes, suitcases, and the backseat of my car. When no foam wrap is required, it's not a real move.

This time? We're eightish hours away from (old) home Arkansas, and this isn't a college dorm room. It's our house (apartment). We need our stuff. And, boy, let me tell you. We have discovered that we have a lot of stuff. So far, we've thrown away about a bajillion pieces of foam wrap and around two million cardboard boxes, but we've got our stuff.

All of our precious stuff is in the apartment, most of it is in the general area in which it will stay, and a little of it is right where it needs to be.

Our goal is to finish putting everything together and get completely settled by the time my school starts. Monday, August 23rd. As the day we need to really be able to live here approaches, I am a little nervous, but still confident, that we can get it done.

I think it's safe to say we won't be moving for a while. Moving doesn't suit Hub's personality much either. So, I'll say it:

WE DEFINITELY WON'T BE MOVING FOR A WHILE. (make that a LONG while).

Talkin' About My Generation

I didn't write this secret, but I liked it, so I thought I'd share it here.

My generation needs some hope, some people to believe in us. I think just a little bit of encouragement could go a long way.

(www.postsecret.com)

Then again, maybe we are doomed.

(I hope we aren't.)

Back to Blogging.

I took a blogging break so that I could live a little.

My agenda?

-Go to Florida.

-Get married.

-Go on a cruise.

-Go to Atlanta.

-Go to Arkansas.

-Pack to move.

-Move to Louisville.

-Unpack.

-I think you get the drift....

So, now that all the traveling and craziness has settled down (has it?), I'm back to blogging again. I'm glad to be back. It's a routine, and right now, Hub and I are both craving some routine. We moved one week ago tomorrow, and our days have consisted of Target runs, unpacking boxes, trips to the dumpster, arranging furniture, Kroger runs, etc, etc. There is no real method to the madness, but things are starting to come together.

I promise to blog about the wedding and cruise and fun festivities, and I promise to blog about moving and post pictures of our cute new place at the Crescent. (Eventually).

It's good to be back. :)

247 so far; The Part I Enjoy.

The gifts are rolling in. My gratitude is pouring out. No, seriously.

I am a thank-you note writing machine. I have it down to a fine science. Okay, so maybe I'm not that good, but I get along okay.

Everyone (well, at least a few people) ask if I'm tired of the note writing yet. Has it become tedious? Is it finally getting to be just too much?

Nope. It hasn't. Mostly.

Sure, it's overwhelming to manage all the other facets of my life and try to write genuine thank-you notes in a timely manner that aren't carbon copies of one another; however, I quite enjoy it. That's right; I think writing thank-you notes is fun. (I wasn't an English major for nothin', ya know!)

I mean, this person got me a gift or threw me a party; he or she deserves to be appropriately thanked. Besides that, I am really grateful. People have been so gracious to Hub and me. We have received generous gift cards, beautiful decorative items, gorgeous serving pieces, and all kinds of the perfectly practical things we'll be needing. We've been blessed, and that's an understatement.

So, no, I don't mind taking a minute or two to write a note thanking the giver of the gift.

Don't get me wrong; there have been plenty of times that I've not wanted to lift my pen again for fear that my hand might fall off, but that doesn't diminish the gratitude I so desperately want to express.