Here/There
17 months ago I was living in Vermillion, South Dakota, and I was counting down the hours until my move to New York City.
17 months later, I am living in New York City, and I am counting down the hours until I get to go back to Vermillion.
Something is wrong with this picture.
Here's what I think it is:
When I throw around terms like "college" and "Verm," I'm most likely referring to the time I spent in my late teens and early 20's when most of my best friends lived in the same house on east Clark St. and my only job was working a few hours at the writing center. I felt like I knew more people than I didn't know, and I went out more than I stayed in. My biggest stresses were 10 page papers and sorority recruitment drama, and my earliest class was at 10am. Even reflecting back on grad school prompts positive memories: English TA cubicles, crazy student stories, Carey's funk nights. Though just a small midwest college town, Vermillion houses some of my best favorite memories. Those memories are what I choose to remember about my life in Verm-town. It's nostalgia at its finest/worst, and this type of thinking creeps up on me sometimes when I'm [figuratively and literally] lost in a city of eight million, legitimately wondering how long it would take anyone to notice if I died. I close my eyes, envision Carey's back patio, and long to be back in Coyote country.
Then I give myself a "snap out of it" kind of talking to. The true truth slowly comes back, and I remember the heartbreak and the hangovers and the homework. I force myself to remember the end, graduation, when I felt ready to leave and discover the world outside of Clay County. Then I remember that all my friends did, too.
And then I'm back where I started. 17 months ago. Living in Vermillion and finishing my Master's degree. There were more people that I didn't know than people that I did, and I stayed in more times than I went out. With the exception of a few grad school/law school pals, my friends were all gone and so was my contentedness with staying inside Clay County.
It was time to move on, and so I did. I moved to the greatest city in America.
(But that doesn't mean that I still can't be super stoked for a trip back to Verm-town!)
17 months later, I am living in New York City, and I am counting down the hours until I get to go back to Vermillion.
Something is wrong with this picture.
Here's what I think it is:
When I throw around terms like "college" and "Verm," I'm most likely referring to the time I spent in my late teens and early 20's when most of my best friends lived in the same house on east Clark St. and my only job was working a few hours at the writing center. I felt like I knew more people than I didn't know, and I went out more than I stayed in. My biggest stresses were 10 page papers and sorority recruitment drama, and my earliest class was at 10am. Even reflecting back on grad school prompts positive memories: English TA cubicles, crazy student stories, Carey's funk nights. Though just a small midwest college town, Vermillion houses some of my best favorite memories. Those memories are what I choose to remember about my life in Verm-town. It's nostalgia at its finest/worst, and this type of thinking creeps up on me sometimes when I'm [figuratively and literally] lost in a city of eight million, legitimately wondering how long it would take anyone to notice if I died. I close my eyes, envision Carey's back patio, and long to be back in Coyote country.
Then I give myself a "snap out of it" kind of talking to. The true truth slowly comes back, and I remember the heartbreak and the hangovers and the homework. I force myself to remember the end, graduation, when I felt ready to leave and discover the world outside of Clay County. Then I remember that all my friends did, too.
And then I'm back where I started. 17 months ago. Living in Vermillion and finishing my Master's degree. There were more people that I didn't know than people that I did, and I stayed in more times than I went out. With the exception of a few grad school/law school pals, my friends were all gone and so was my contentedness with staying inside Clay County.
It was time to move on, and so I did. I moved to the greatest city in America.
(But that doesn't mean that I still can't be super stoked for a trip back to Verm-town!)
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