Friday, May 24, 2013

Now that I'm done writing about Khrushchev and the Georgian economy...



And, it happened.  I knew the time would come when I would fail to keep up with the blog.  This semester somehow got away from me.  By the time winter was over, papers were calling my name.  I still managed to have a good semester.  Instead of working on papers for Spring Break, my mom, best friend, and I ventured to San Francisco.  Having never ventured to the West Coast, I loved it.  I don’t think I could handle the high prices and hills for any length of time, but the city was a blast to visit for a few days.  The weather also cooperated marvelously, so instead of gross Indiana weather, we got a week of relative sun and light jackets.   

Then I went back to school and found out I’d be writing more papers than I thought, so life became very narrow: read, write, and get your homework done.  I also decided not to go on the program I was set on this summer.  Instead of going to Russia, I decided to go to Georgia.  I leave in a few weeks and am looking forward to a summer in Tbilisi-getting to see old friends, being back in a beautiful country, and do some more exploring.

I finished year 1 of grad school well, but that was the easy year.  In August I start the MBA program and enter a different world.  Part of me can’t wait, the other part wonders how I’ll still be able to have conversations about Putin and Stalin and Misha on a regular basis.  At least I’ll have friends who won’t shudder when I talk about TFP or privatization.

A few weeks before school got out, the business school had an admit weekend, a teaser of how different life is about to become.  It was a bit jarring to realize that the two programs on the same campus could treat everything so differently.  It’s also a relief to be entering a program where people actually (and actively) care about me getting a great job I enjoy once I finish this degree.  As much as I love what I’ve learned this year, I won’t be sad to say goodbye to academia in 2 years.

But, I don’t have to grow up just yet.  In the weeks since school got over, I moved, again.  I’ve managed to stay in one place for longer than a year only once since I turned 18, so I really should be better at this moving thing than I am.  At least this time I got movers, so the process was much easier, and moving every year makes me consistently reevaluate if I need things or not.  After that, I went home to visit my parents and have ended up working at my mom’s work for more days than I anticipated.  It’s been a good break from the cerebral world of Bloomington.  Friendly smiles, happy small talk, and small town speech has been a breath of fresh air, as well as entertainment for the linguistic side of my brain.  The days I leave the bakery to be outside are reminders of why I’m in school to get a desk job so I don’t have to perform manual labor in the future.

In the midst of a month off that’s fleeing all too fast, I got a quick trip in to see my grandmother in Vero Beach.  I got to see the Atlantic Ocean for the first time in too long.  In thinking about B-school, I’ve thought about where I want to work when I graduate.  I’m pretty flexible, but the more I walked along that beach and swam in the waves, the more the Atlantic seaboard started appealing more and more.  The ocean is my happy place.  It’s just good for the soul.

Getting to visit with my grandmother was also wonderful.  It’s one more experience in a long line the last few years where I realize that my role is changing.  I’m no longer the child, tagging along while others make all the decisions, but a real adult.  This was the first time I had ever spent any real time just me and my grandmother.  It was quite lovely, and the trip was far too short. 

The visit was another instance of where I was hit by how places mean so much, even for one who sometimes feels like a vagrant.   As I drove to St. Louis, my first sight of the Arch brought a smile to my face, as it has every time I’ve seen it since I was a girl, driving to visit my grandparents, when the Arch signaled the journey was almost over.  I ended up needing to drive through my old neighborhood on Monday.  I hadn’t been by in a couple years, so I was pleased when I remembered where the street we needed was but also felt strange seeing our old house, now clearly inhabited by another family.  Even after two years away, many places in St. Louis still feel so familiar.  In the airport on my way to Florida, I caught a glimpse of one of the few restaurants before security and suddenly remembered drinking an overpriced chai tea latte there with my parents, waiting to start the journey that would take me to Tbilisi. Now I’m a few weeks away from making a similar journey.  I’m looking forward to going to Georgia for so many reasons, but I also am trying to temper my excitement.  Once again, I’ll be seeing an old familiar place with new experiences behind me.  Many of the friends who made my year in Georgia so wonderful are now far away, or will only be around for a brief period of time.  I’ll be with a new host family, spending lots of time studying, and living in Tbilisi instead of my lovely mountain village.

  I can go back to Georgia, but I can’t really go back, not to the year I had, the life I knew then.  It’s better for me, but I have so many magical memories of Georgia, that I know I’ll miss certain faces and places when I return.  While several things have changed, I’m so pleased that one of the things I’ve missed most will come true.  Within a week of arriving, I will get to sit in my favorite restaurant drinking cheap wine by the liter with two of my favorite people, chatting away the hours like we used to.  The experience was one I repeated many times and encompasses so many parts of why I loved my year in Georgia so much.  I’m hoping this summer it will be a kick-off to a new source of adventures, friends, experiences, and stories for the blog.

No comments:

Post a Comment