Reflections (sans grad school bullshit)

I'm sitting in my new home in Minneapolis. I have my own, rather luxurious room. I have my bed and my computer and my bean bag and my desk... I have my books and clothes. All the essentials are here with me. Over the last five or so years, I've accumulated these things. Some of my possessions have moved with me several times. This is my fifth place of residence in Minneapolis... not including the apartments I semi-inhabited with my ex-boyfriend.

This is the first time I've lived in a house. Not a duplex, or a dorm, or an apartment, but a house. As I have progressed in years, my dwellings have also progressed. From a dorm room to a shared room in a "cookie-cutter" apartment building to sharing that same apartment with my ex and my sister to my own room in a duplex shared with men to the anomaly of the crappy one bedroom with my sister to my own room in a full house. Where am I going to move to next? Will it continue to be to bigger and better things? Will I continue to spend my days in this mill-worn city?

Life is a long and arduous journey. I sometimes ask myself... why can't I settle for mediocrity? Why can't I just get a crappy 9-5 job and be content with myself? When will I stop pushing so hard? I feel like the kid in that ubiquitous Far Side cartoon, pushing against the pull door at the school for the gifted. How hard to you have to push on a pull door before it opens? Shall we calculate the force required to break a hinge? How hard to you have to push before you give up and walk away? How long do you push before you realize you're making a mistake and need to pull instead?

When do I make a move? A move that doesn't involve packing and boxes and UHaul rentals... but one that involves the position of the swinging door in my mind that allows me to be content. In all my pondering on grad school and life, I still haven't made up my goddamned mind.

It's time to get the Magic 8-Ball and leave my happiness to the hands of fate... or, in the case of the Magic 8-Ball, a buoyant dice roll. As Einstein said, God does not "play dice." Good thing I'm human.