Right now I'm living in Provo, Utah. It's a good town and all, but I am ready for changes. Living here has been an incredible learning experience. From the basics, I'm a DC native. My family is from "Everywhere Europe" if you go back far enough, but more recently (1500-present, +/-) we're Scottish, English, German, Irish, Slovak, Dutch, and some good old Americans whose roots I honestly don't know yet. I'm a genealogist. For anyone who doesn't know what that is, I trace people's ancestors or descendants for a living. If you're interested in knowing more, contact me. I plan to start a genealogy blog soon, but in the meantime I have a whole lot to say about getting to Chicago. So, we'll get back to this immediately.
I feel like the vast majority of my life, if not my whole life has been leading up this move. Chronologically-speaking, (duh, it has!) but otherwise, it's like there's this huge weight on my shoulders and whenever I even think about moving, my heart gets lighter. I just want to start grinning and boogie! I may be nervous about the actual move itself (how in the world am I EVER going to pay for the moving truck? Yeah, no idea.) but I am working hard and doing my best.
Leaving this place on the one hand feels like I'm taking a shower after a good long marathon. Walking the Smith Field House track regularly, I know how it feels to walk to the point where you just don't feel it anymore and you could keep going for a while. But then you remember that you chose to walk there and have to walk home, so you save enough energy for the walk back. But hey, you've been walking already for a half hour, just at the track, not including the walk there, and it's actually not too shabby so long as there is consistency in the exercise. I hope that made some sense.
I definitely believe in God. Believe in Christ, too. Oh yeah, and I'm a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. We're known in popular media as "Mormons." I am an active, single, female member of the Church. And I'm fine with that. I grew up in the midst of a cultural salad bowl, and I love to learn about other cultures, religions, thinking patterns. I agree with Dale Carnegie that a great way to make and keep friends is not to criticize. So, I'm going to follow that as much as I can.
For me, Chicago is a chance to start over. I've lived in Provo since September 2006 continuously. Before that, it was hop-scotching from Northern Virginia (DC) to Provo following high school graduation and acceptance to BYU; Provo back and forth to DC for a few years for school, then to Los Angeles for a mission, then back to DC and hopping between DC and Provo a couple times more (school, death in family), and then Manhattan (LOVE NYC!) for internship, back to Provo, and I have been here since then. Chicago was right back in 2006. It's still right now, even five years later.
So why Chicago? My first Master's degree. It took me a long time to get done with the Bachelor's degree, and while I graduated a few years ago, it's time to get gone. My first Masters degree will be in Public History at Loyola. I've only been to Chicago for a combined total of six hours, but I can't help it. I may sound nuts, but I LOVE that town! My first experience with it was driving through/past it on I-80 my first time to college, and my first time west of West Virginia. Babe in the woods, so to speak, my whole family for a few hundred years has been on the East Coast. Why leave? I needed to go to BYU. Cost was a factor, but God was, too. If you're not a fan of God, you're probably not going to like this blog. He's my bud and I do a lot of things based upon what I feel is the right thing.
Driving past Chicago that Saturday, the place freaked me out! I had never seen that much traffic going that fast and moving in every direction possible. Granted, I could barely drive, but come on, people! And thank heavens, I wasn't driving then. Thank you, Dad.
Next time passing Chicago was 2006, and I got there at 2 AM and was stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic. I'm still wondering how that happens at 2AM. Couldn't figure out whether a concert had gotten out, or what. The guy who was riding out with me (just a nice guy and we were both going to BYU from Northern Virginia) and I stopped on the side of the road for about 20 minutes thinking that it would clear out. Nope. Not a bit. Got back into that insane asylum line, and to this day, I have no idea why there was that much traffic at a crazy hour of the night/morning.
My most recent experience with the town, I had a layover at Midway. I was on the way to my grandpa's funeral last August, and by then I had started making plans to come to Chicago and had gotten into grad school. I deferred a year to try to make money. Maybe not the smartest move with the economy in 2010, but I was doing my best. My impression of Chicago after doing a little research was a place where people were competent. They knew their stuff. Most of my time in Provo, I've felt like people got things done at their own pace, and it was usually a day later than I wanted it done. I'm not an A-type personality. I just like things to move when it can. Making progress is a good thing, I hope. Even at the airport awaiting the flight, I was not disappointed. Completely competent people worked their magic, and I was just charmed. Yeah, even at the airport. Kind of amazing.
So here I am, 22 Days to Go until I move out there. None of my stuff is packed. I have started sorting things out, but I need to build boxes and start getting things better organized. I will admit to being nervous about something until it is done. That's just how I am. I have had enough disappointments in life that until something is finished and over with, it's not done. Yes, I have faith, but you have to work with grace, not simply chancing something to a lack of diligence. At least, that's my thinking on the matter. So, while I am in a "happy bubble" about how I feel about the town and how much I look forward to making new friends and simply being real about life, I'm still under the stress of realizing that there is a whole lot involved here. I'm not going into this blind at all. I have a condo reserved, two roommates, a branch president, and institute directors expecting me, a friend to help me get myself and my stuff out there (ROAD TRIP!) and I'm registered for classes at my next university. It's so strange to refer to BYU as the "undergrad" but now it is. *insert cheering here*
I am the first woman on my Mom's side of the family to graduate from a Bachelor's program, and the first to even attempt a Master's. On my Dad's side, my grandaunt has a doctorate, so... can't really go too much farther than that. My decision about the Masters degree or How that whole idea got going: Once when I was talking with my Grandpa at a cafe over the Christmas Break after a death in the family, I was trying to figure out what I wanted to do with the rest of my life after college. I knew that Chicago was the right place to be, and he didn't have any problems with it. He'd been there before and offered what he knew, and it was all stuff that made me really pleased. I wanted to do grad work, and I was thinking about a doctorate, and asked him what he thought of that.What did he think of having a doctor in the family? He grinned and said that he didn't mind that.
He was a high school drop out for fighting in World War II until his kids went to college and he graduated with his Bachelor's degree when they did. Then he added an MBA and kept going back to school, like a hobby, while he worked. At least, that's what I heard happened. He spent retirement adding more degrees. I'm not sure how many he had by the time he deceased, but at his most recent graduation for a BFA after my Grandma passed, he was the oldest graduate. He was glad that he could pass for someone ten years younger. Rock on, Grandpa! AWESOME!
When I mentioned my aspirations at the Public History route, and that my undergrad only had one class in it, (I took it. That's how I got the idea for doing a Masters in it. I loved it.) and I didn't think that I could do a doctorate without more background and would probably need a Masters first, he agreed with my line of thinking. That, and a conversation with a friend, MK, changed my perspectives about Chicago. After a blessing in 2006, the choice to do grad school in Chicago became cemented.
It's been anything but an easy road to get here. Three years after graduating with my Bachelor's degree, I was admitted last year, deferred, and although I was originally accepted for a double Masters program to study Library Information Archival Science at a partnering university in Chicago in addition to the Public History program, I deferred too long for the LIAS program. I will be re-applying there once I get to Chicago. Cross your fingers that I can get in again!
For the meantime, however, I have enough to worry about with just getting there in the first place. I plan to try to sell or give away most of my room/stuff. I have to keep most of my books since they're reference works (plus or minus) and being a genealogist, there are just a lot of papers that come with the territory. We're bred to be archivists, but not pack rats. Yes, I have a lot of stuff. I think that I take after my Dad who takes after his mother in this respect. She grew up in the Depression and due to scarcity, tended to hoard. I have diluted tendencies for this. However, I also realize that I can get rid of things and other people will most likely use them or pass them along. After six years of wondering how or when I can help others with some material goods, I am thoroughly ready to sort and then say, "Go for it!" meaning take it away and use it.
My future roommates sent me a video of the condo, and I am glad to pare down. Although I am trying to plan out how things may work out, it's always better to go for less than more, even when you're starting out and in penurious "Church mouse" mode.
It's overtime to call it a night now. Here's to my first public blog. Enjoy!
I feel like the vast majority of my life, if not my whole life has been leading up this move. Chronologically-speaking, (duh, it has!) but otherwise, it's like there's this huge weight on my shoulders and whenever I even think about moving, my heart gets lighter. I just want to start grinning and boogie! I may be nervous about the actual move itself (how in the world am I EVER going to pay for the moving truck? Yeah, no idea.) but I am working hard and doing my best.
Leaving this place on the one hand feels like I'm taking a shower after a good long marathon. Walking the Smith Field House track regularly, I know how it feels to walk to the point where you just don't feel it anymore and you could keep going for a while. But then you remember that you chose to walk there and have to walk home, so you save enough energy for the walk back. But hey, you've been walking already for a half hour, just at the track, not including the walk there, and it's actually not too shabby so long as there is consistency in the exercise. I hope that made some sense.
I definitely believe in God. Believe in Christ, too. Oh yeah, and I'm a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. We're known in popular media as "Mormons." I am an active, single, female member of the Church. And I'm fine with that. I grew up in the midst of a cultural salad bowl, and I love to learn about other cultures, religions, thinking patterns. I agree with Dale Carnegie that a great way to make and keep friends is not to criticize. So, I'm going to follow that as much as I can.
For me, Chicago is a chance to start over. I've lived in Provo since September 2006 continuously. Before that, it was hop-scotching from Northern Virginia (DC) to Provo following high school graduation and acceptance to BYU; Provo back and forth to DC for a few years for school, then to Los Angeles for a mission, then back to DC and hopping between DC and Provo a couple times more (school, death in family), and then Manhattan (LOVE NYC!) for internship, back to Provo, and I have been here since then. Chicago was right back in 2006. It's still right now, even five years later.
So why Chicago? My first Master's degree. It took me a long time to get done with the Bachelor's degree, and while I graduated a few years ago, it's time to get gone. My first Masters degree will be in Public History at Loyola. I've only been to Chicago for a combined total of six hours, but I can't help it. I may sound nuts, but I LOVE that town! My first experience with it was driving through/past it on I-80 my first time to college, and my first time west of West Virginia. Babe in the woods, so to speak, my whole family for a few hundred years has been on the East Coast. Why leave? I needed to go to BYU. Cost was a factor, but God was, too. If you're not a fan of God, you're probably not going to like this blog. He's my bud and I do a lot of things based upon what I feel is the right thing.
Driving past Chicago that Saturday, the place freaked me out! I had never seen that much traffic going that fast and moving in every direction possible. Granted, I could barely drive, but come on, people! And thank heavens, I wasn't driving then. Thank you, Dad.
Next time passing Chicago was 2006, and I got there at 2 AM and was stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic. I'm still wondering how that happens at 2AM. Couldn't figure out whether a concert had gotten out, or what. The guy who was riding out with me (just a nice guy and we were both going to BYU from Northern Virginia) and I stopped on the side of the road for about 20 minutes thinking that it would clear out. Nope. Not a bit. Got back into that insane asylum line, and to this day, I have no idea why there was that much traffic at a crazy hour of the night/morning.
My most recent experience with the town, I had a layover at Midway. I was on the way to my grandpa's funeral last August, and by then I had started making plans to come to Chicago and had gotten into grad school. I deferred a year to try to make money. Maybe not the smartest move with the economy in 2010, but I was doing my best. My impression of Chicago after doing a little research was a place where people were competent. They knew their stuff. Most of my time in Provo, I've felt like people got things done at their own pace, and it was usually a day later than I wanted it done. I'm not an A-type personality. I just like things to move when it can. Making progress is a good thing, I hope. Even at the airport awaiting the flight, I was not disappointed. Completely competent people worked their magic, and I was just charmed. Yeah, even at the airport. Kind of amazing.
So here I am, 22 Days to Go until I move out there. None of my stuff is packed. I have started sorting things out, but I need to build boxes and start getting things better organized. I will admit to being nervous about something until it is done. That's just how I am. I have had enough disappointments in life that until something is finished and over with, it's not done. Yes, I have faith, but you have to work with grace, not simply chancing something to a lack of diligence. At least, that's my thinking on the matter. So, while I am in a "happy bubble" about how I feel about the town and how much I look forward to making new friends and simply being real about life, I'm still under the stress of realizing that there is a whole lot involved here. I'm not going into this blind at all. I have a condo reserved, two roommates, a branch president, and institute directors expecting me, a friend to help me get myself and my stuff out there (ROAD TRIP!) and I'm registered for classes at my next university. It's so strange to refer to BYU as the "undergrad" but now it is. *insert cheering here*
I am the first woman on my Mom's side of the family to graduate from a Bachelor's program, and the first to even attempt a Master's. On my Dad's side, my grandaunt has a doctorate, so... can't really go too much farther than that. My decision about the Masters degree or How that whole idea got going: Once when I was talking with my Grandpa at a cafe over the Christmas Break after a death in the family, I was trying to figure out what I wanted to do with the rest of my life after college. I knew that Chicago was the right place to be, and he didn't have any problems with it. He'd been there before and offered what he knew, and it was all stuff that made me really pleased. I wanted to do grad work, and I was thinking about a doctorate, and asked him what he thought of that.What did he think of having a doctor in the family? He grinned and said that he didn't mind that.
He was a high school drop out for fighting in World War II until his kids went to college and he graduated with his Bachelor's degree when they did. Then he added an MBA and kept going back to school, like a hobby, while he worked. At least, that's what I heard happened. He spent retirement adding more degrees. I'm not sure how many he had by the time he deceased, but at his most recent graduation for a BFA after my Grandma passed, he was the oldest graduate. He was glad that he could pass for someone ten years younger. Rock on, Grandpa! AWESOME!
When I mentioned my aspirations at the Public History route, and that my undergrad only had one class in it, (I took it. That's how I got the idea for doing a Masters in it. I loved it.) and I didn't think that I could do a doctorate without more background and would probably need a Masters first, he agreed with my line of thinking. That, and a conversation with a friend, MK, changed my perspectives about Chicago. After a blessing in 2006, the choice to do grad school in Chicago became cemented.
It's been anything but an easy road to get here. Three years after graduating with my Bachelor's degree, I was admitted last year, deferred, and although I was originally accepted for a double Masters program to study Library Information Archival Science at a partnering university in Chicago in addition to the Public History program, I deferred too long for the LIAS program. I will be re-applying there once I get to Chicago. Cross your fingers that I can get in again!
For the meantime, however, I have enough to worry about with just getting there in the first place. I plan to try to sell or give away most of my room/stuff. I have to keep most of my books since they're reference works (plus or minus) and being a genealogist, there are just a lot of papers that come with the territory. We're bred to be archivists, but not pack rats. Yes, I have a lot of stuff. I think that I take after my Dad who takes after his mother in this respect. She grew up in the Depression and due to scarcity, tended to hoard. I have diluted tendencies for this. However, I also realize that I can get rid of things and other people will most likely use them or pass them along. After six years of wondering how or when I can help others with some material goods, I am thoroughly ready to sort and then say, "Go for it!" meaning take it away and use it.
My future roommates sent me a video of the condo, and I am glad to pare down. Although I am trying to plan out how things may work out, it's always better to go for less than more, even when you're starting out and in penurious "Church mouse" mode.
It's overtime to call it a night now. Here's to my first public blog. Enjoy!
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