If we were having coffee, we’d be talking about house hunting.
I’m staying with my college friend right now, but her lease is up at the end of July–so I need to find a place by the first of August. I’ve been scouring the internet looking for housing opportunities and I’ve been feeling a lot of stress.
If we were having coffee, I’d tell you that I thought I had one. A place to live in DC. I met with the roommates and we seemed to get along well, I liked the location, but the application ended up falling through. I took it real hard and had a bit of a rough day on Tuesday, as a result. Towards the end of the day, I realized–there are so many other housing options in DC. So many people looking for roommates. So many rooms opening up. I had gotten it in my head that this house was the only one…but it’s not. I feel so rushed because there are only a couple weeks left of July now, but a lot can happen in a couple weeks. I’m certain I’ll find a place. Plus, this house was the very first one I toured–it honestly seemed too good to be true in getting into the first place I toured…and I guess it was. Something else will come along in time.
If we were having coffee, I’d tell you that I’ve had a mix of good and bad days this week. House hunting is stressful…especially on a time limit…and I’m eager and anxious to get into a place of my own. I think, another part of me is anxious about actually settling down. Though I know this is what I need and want right now, I’ve gotten so used to wandering in this past year–and the idea of setting down roots does make me a bit apprehensive. Moving to DC and starting a life here has been my dream for so long. Now that I’m actually in the process of making that happen, it’s kind of freaking me out. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, though–if it scares you, your probably doing something right. I’ve been reminding myself lately that my life is really just beginning. The life I’m passionate and excited about living, that is. I’m only 23. I have so many more years ahead of me to travel and create adventures and move around. I also think setting down roots and staying in one place for a bit is another sort of adventure. One that I desperately need right now.
If we were having coffee, I’d tell you that I’ve finally getting hours at the coffee shop. It’s been busy and overwhelming–so much more overwhelming than my espresso bar job at the gas station last summer–but every day that I go in, I feel a bit more comfortable. I’m also keeping in touch with one of the temp agencies I’m working with and they are doing a great job on keeping me posted regarding potential work. I passed up a writing and editing opportunity this week because it wasn’t easily accessible by public transport (and I’m planning on selling my car soon), but hopefully something else will come up soon!
If we were having coffee, I’d talk about all the bad things that have been happening in the world lately. I’m aware of these tragedies. Philando Castile’s death in Minnesota hit particularly close to home because I’m from the Minneapolis area, but everything else encompassing the race issues happening in the US (is this 1968 all over again?) to Nice and attacks around the world that seem to be filling the news daily–I’m aware of them and I’m saddened by them. I’ve thought about writing about them, but I’m not really sure how to. Anything I could say would feel forced and fake–maybe it’s because I feel it’s not really my place to say anything. In our social media-centered world, we’ve come to believe that we all have a voice that matters. I don’t really know that I believe that. I believe in the power of words. I’m a writer. Of course I believe that. When it comes to these situations, though–these horrible tragedies that seem to be happening almost daily now, I think social media sometimes does more harm than good. It seems that writing something about it is almost expected of people. It seems that if we don’t post anything, we just don’t care. Or are ill-informed, at that. Perhaps that’s why writing anything feels fake to me, then…because as a writer, that writing would be coming from my head, not my heart–and that doesn’t feel right at all. I think words lose their value when we all end up saying the same thing in order to save face. That seems rather silly to me. I do care. I am saddened. I also don’t need write a blog post to let the world know that.
If we were having coffee, I’d tell you about Yibby. To brighten the mood. My college friend is on vacation right now so I get her bed instead of the lumpy air mattress I have been sleeping on. Her bed comes with a cat–14 year old Yibby who looks way younger than her years. We’ve been spending a lot of time together lately and she’s actually been a great comfort with all the house hunting stress I’ve been experiencing. Maybe getting a cat is in my future.
If we were having coffee, I’d be ready to switch it off to you–and I’d ask if you have anything to share over coffee
This post is part of the Weekend Coffee Share link up at Part-Time Monster