I have bronchitis again. So here I am, laid up in bed on a very cold wednesday evening, watching numerous episodes of SVU on USA.  Minus the bronchitis part, my life could be worse. A lot has changed since I last posted - heck, the entire quarter's passed. I decided that I'm going to grad school for Medieval Studies, not Library Science. Scary, I know.  I've sent in applications to Princeton, Pitt, Rutgers, and Cornell; I still have UConn and Catholic left to go.

Eric also bought very pretty roses for me today, just to make me feel better. He's so sweet. :)

There's really not much point to this update, other to say that I'm alive and I'm going to make another go at this. 

So the quarter's off to a pretty awesome start. I have Latin every day (and I know it's only been three days, but I'm liking it alot), French on Mondays and Wednesdays, statistics on Mondays, then twice on Wednesdays and Fridays (which kind of sucks, but at least it seems interesting), and ballet on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

My first "offical" ballet class is tomorrow - we just talked on Thursday. I haven't danced since I was 8, and it felt pretty strange to be buying a leotard, slippers, and very pink tights as a 21 year old, but hey. I'll have to take a picture just to prove that I can at least look the part of a ballerina, lol. We'll see how the actual dancing part of it goes!

My french class is also great, in a terrifying way above my head kind of way. I guess that happens when you sweet talk your advisor (who happens to be teaching the class) into waiving the pre-reqs just because it's in your primary field of interest (medieval french literature). There are a ton of grad students in the class, and of the undergrads, I'm the only non-french major. The readings take me forever, but only speaking to my great-grandmother in french whenever we talk on the phone has paid off big time. For someone who hasn't taken a french class in over a year, I'm holding my own.

I also (and this is kind of big news) quit mock trial. I know, right? But as you can see, I'm pretty busy. I'm on campus from 8-5 every day, either in class or at work, and I have a ton of homework every night (and it's only the third day!). But I've already been invited to become a peer research contact for the Undergraduate Research Office, and I was also invited to become a part of the Dean's Student Advisory Group (made up of outstanding seniors within the college of humanities), and the Senior Bank, which is a listing of outstanding seniors from each major who can mentor little freshman. It makes me wonder how many other seniors  are actually in Medieval and Renaissance Studies, if I'm an "outstanding" one, and who the heck keeps naming me to even be considered for these things. Nonetheless, it's pretty cool, and I feel really honored to be a part of it all. It would just be hilarious if it was only happening because I am the only MRS major.

(on a side note, when my aunt found out that I was getting a "MRS" degree, she choked on her coffee. Then she said, "I guess that had a different meaning when I went to college!" When I explained it was for Medieval Studies and not husband-hunting, she felt better about it. :P)

Our new house is pretty great, too. We have a fireplace! And a dishwasher! And my room is huge and beautiful, even if I've been here for a week and still haven't unpacked a thing. Okay, I take that back. I made my bed. Everything else still needs to be unpacked. Somehow I lost a peg to my bookshelf during the move (=fail) and I can't seem to get myself to unpack anything until I can unpack my books. And I can't unpack my books until I get that peg. Hopefully it'll be soon. :P

Here's to a great fall!

Classes start on Wednesday, and I am actually very excited about it. I miss having all of that order in my life. I'm heading back to Columbus on Sunday - my dad's driving me halfway, where we're meeting Eric and he's taking me home.

It's funny how Columbus has become home. I guess I always assumed that home would mean where I grew up - the house in the Poconos, where I figured that my parents would live forever and I'd always be able to go back to. The place where I lived close to fifteen years, where I had gone to school, where I had made friends and laughed and cried. I always knew that one day I'd move out and make my own home, but I hadn't expected that it would come before I graduated from college. But ever since my parents moved, it's what's happened. I love my family to death - they're my family. But when I'm "home" with them, in their new apartment and new town, I feel like a visitor. Which I guess I am, since, for the past two years, I've lived full time in an entirely different state. I have a house (albeit with four other girls), a cat, a boyfriend of three years. I have my own room that I can come home to at anytime, my own bed, a kitchen where I can cook what I want when I want, a job. I call it "home". I'm not sure if where you live at college is supposed to become home. Then again, is a two bedroom apartment where you've only been three or four times, where you sleep on the couch, home? Isn't home supposed to be permanent? Or, as cliche as it sounds, is home where your heart is? Is it possible to have two homes, because my heart is constantly in two places - with Eric, and with my family.

It's kind of sad, really. I'm not quite sure what my place is anymore. With Eric? With my family? With both? I don't really know how to express this to anyone. I wonder if it's normal. Is it normal to not know where to call "home"? I call my parents' apartment "home" when I'm at school, and my house in Columbus "home" when I'm in PA. Then again, I also call hotels "home" when I'm on vacation. Maybe I'm just confused about this whole home thing.

I guess I can chalk it up to being a part of growing up, and let it lie. I suppose it doesn't matter, and I should just be grateful to have two wonderful places where I belong, no questions asked.

Actually, I've been home for a few days now, but I figured I'd (again) update this thing and try to keep a regular account of my life. We'll see how it goes.

This past weekend was fun - my dad drove out to Columbus to see me (and the football game). He almost gave me a heart attack when we went out to dinner after the game, though. We went to this steakhouse by his hotel. We sit down, and it's a pretty snazzy place. They bring us the menu, and the cheapest steak on the menu is $38. $38!.

ME: Holy Crap.
DAD: What?
ME: Daddy, we have to leave, now. We can't eat here.
DAD: Looks pretty good to me.
ME: Mom's going to kill us!
DAD: *shrugs* At least I'll die full. And I want a steak. This looks like good steak.
ME: Maybe I'll just get a salad...

I ended up getting a lobster tail that still cost less than the steaks, and a salad. Needless to say, everything was awesome. My dad's steak was the best I've ever tasted. We did get in trouble, though, when my mom checked the bank statement online. Whoops.

Anyway, I'll be home for the next week and a half or so. I haven't really decided when we'll be making the trek home.

so ... i'm back?